


Never Let Me Go

by captaineifersucht



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Christmas Party, Facials, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hannibal has Feelings, Hannibal is terrible at making decisions in relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Husbands, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Top & Bottom Hannibal, Top & Bottom Will, Will Finds Out, butts before guts i really can't write gore, eventual dark!Will, eventual sex i promise, hannibal on narcotics, i really love angsty will, sex in hanni's flawless kitchen, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaineifersucht/pseuds/captaineifersucht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Will runs into some trouble, Hannibal seizes his chance to sink his claws further into his prized not-patient, working to lure him closer and closer to himself.  As their relationship changes and intensifies, both must adjust their expectations.  Hannibal finds himself unexpectedly attached to Will and realizes that he must change his design.  Meanwhile, as Will becomes acquainted with the darkness in Hannibal, he must decide whether or not to admit to his own darkness as well.  To maintain their life together, each must struggle to find some acceptable compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Après Moi

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please throw all your constructive criticism at me. I need it!
> 
> Inspired by my Pandora giving me angsty songs that make me think of Hannigram.  
> Not beta'd. This will probably have irregular updates
> 
> I recommend listening to the song referenced at the beginning of each chapter!

  
_"I must go on standing_   
_You can't break that which isn't yours_   
_I must go on standing_   
_I'm not my own, It's not my choice"_   
[\--Après Moi, Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QbeHq1CLqJ8)

Fall had settled into her domain. The leaves were slippery wet under his boots, the ground moist with life and death simultaneously. In the early Saturday morning, the mist rose. Will Graham appeared as some sort of specter, all dark colors with his mop of hair still wet from the hurried shower he allowed himself before leaving the comfort of Wolf Trap.

Jack Crawford leveled him with a displeased gaze—it was The Ripper.

Will's shoulders snapped up from their hunched demeanor, his pace became more brisk. This wasn't for him, he was at the end of the road. The night terrors, the impossible puzzles, and the never ending line of bodies—it wasn't worth it. He had tried to leave.

Jack had made him stay. It was easy to convince someone that they were responsible for subsequent murders by inaction. 

_One, two, three, four, f--_

In another vain attempt to ground himself, suggested by Dr. Lecter, Will had been counting lately. He couldn't even get to five this time.

" I need you to look, now," the command was curt, as ever.

Within minutes, the bustling bee hive of FBI agents cleared and the golden pendulum began to swing.

\-------  
It was almost two hours back to Wolf Trap with traffic, to the safety of his fisherman's home, or half an hour to Baltimore. The choice was painfully obvious, even though Will always felt guilty about visiting his not-doctor. Hannibal was the closest person he had to a friend after fucking up things with Alana.

" Good morning, Will," the crisp, accented voice didn't have a hint of sleep to it. At least Will didn't have to feel guilty about that. 

After multiple reassurances, Will finally felt comfortable in heading to the city. It was nine by the time he got there, the sun having burnt away the last of the mist. 

Will realized his attire was shabby, a dark checked flannel, his usual green fishing jacket and scuffed pants. He felt a twinge of embarrassment seep through to his stomach, but took a few breaths. 

" You look like you haven't slept," Lecter commented as they passed through the foyer, headed towards the kitchen. 

As Will passed by a mirror, he glanced at the pallid stretch of skin that stared back at him. His eyes were tired, the storm dulled to a rumble. His stubble was getting to be a bit ridiculous, and the bags under his eyes had grown. Irritated, he rubbed a hand over his face.

" It's not my job to sleep, Dr. Lecter. It's my job to catch The Ripper." 

" If you're not taking care of yourself, how can Jack expect you to take care of the case?"

He was always right. There was no use in even commenting. Will flopped into a chair at the island, ever clumsy in comparison to the doctor's graceful movements about the kitchen. He pulled a quiche from the oven, then a bowl of fruit from the refrigerator.

" Quiche Lorraine, with slab cut bacon and Gruyere, and a tropical fruit mix," came the offer as Dr. Lecter artfully plated the meal, his sleight of hand making all the difference. 

Will tried to be poised, sophisticated as he ate his breakfast. He realized how empty his stomach was, the void spasming when the first few bites entered. After awkwardly mumbling his praises—a quick glance at the earthy eyes, ashen hair—his gaze dropped to his plate and he ate.

He could feel Hannibal's gaze on his neck. He could feel it moving down his shoulders, to his wrists, and his movements became stunted. He was almost relieved when his mobile buzzed violently in his back pocket, if not for the way that he dropped his cutlery. 

" Sorry."

_I want you in the lab this afternoon. Look at the files again, I'll expect you at noon._

His chuckle was tired, cracked, and at the end almost hysterical. He shook his head, trying to clear it. A few deep breaths. _It's 9:30am, my name is Will Graham. I'm at Dr. Lecter's house, and I'm eating breakfast._

" Agent Crawford?"

" I need to be back in the lab by noon."

A large, calloused hand came to his shoulder. It rested, squeezed, and was gone just as Will leaned into it. 

He offered to help with the dishes, but was of course denied. As the water ran and the air smelled of soap, he looked at the photos. 

The victim was a young male, maybe even in his early 30s. No ID yet. His spine had been exposed, and burned. There had also been soot in his eye sockets and mouth. Lungs and pancreas missing, intestines wrapped around the spine, tied in a bow. 

" You should not go. How much sleep have you gotten, Will? I don't believe it's safe for you to drive."

The voice was a hum in his ears, a warm lullaby, and Will Graham truly felt tired, the weight of his head coming down. He stood.

" I have to. Jack has asked me to, and I'm in this because of him. I'm his show dog." The sentence was bitter, full of bile. 

" Your mind belongs to you alone. How much did you sleep?" Always so insistent.

" Two hours? Three? I really don't know, Dr. Lecter." He was pacing, he realized. He stopped in his tracks, glanced up. Hannibal was looking at him, soapy plate in hand. The light that came through the window slashed across his face. His cheekbones seemed higher, lips thinner. Will realized that his hair was not slicked back, but hung free. 

The dish was rinsed, placed on a drying rack and with towel over his shoulder, apron still fastened around his waist, the doctor took slow steps to him. Like approaching a wild animal. It made Will twitch, and his gaze dropped to the floorboards, ever spotless. 

The hand was on his shoulder again. " You should at least try to rest, Will."

" It's an hour back to Wolf Trap, then another 45 minutes to Quantico. If I slept the entire time I was home, and ran into no traffic, I'd get half an hour of sleep. It's not worth it."  
Will felt guilty at how harsh it came out. He was angry, he realized. Angry, frustrated, and tired. That was too many emotions for a show dog to feel.

" I was offering you my guest bedroom," Hannibal was saying as Will tried to get out of his own head. " Your health is very important to me, William. If you will not feed yourself or allow yourself to sleep, I will at least try to mend those decisions."

His face grew hot with embarrassment and the second that he glanced at those eyes, he looked away. They were darker with intensity, promise. 

Will nodded his assent and they moved up stairs. Hannibal showed him the bedroom and bathroom down the hall. They were both immaculate. He insisted that Will would be driven to Quantico, not trusting the little sleep he might get here.

He felt some odd warmth in his abdomen at stripping in his not-doctor's home, settling beneath his silk sheets and into a bed far too comfortable for a guest room. This was true evidence of the lack of their doctor-patient relationship. 

The room smelled of a dark forest, of something spicy and soothing. Like whisky. It surprised Will when his breaths came slower, and soon his eyes slipped shut, fist gripped in the delicate silk and one leg hanging off the edge of the bed. 

He was tired.


	2. Eyes on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets a nap and goes to the lab. Hannibal buys some fish and casts his lure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want to study for my ochem final so here's another chapter.
> 
> Again, listen to the song! I would recommend the original, not the Zeds Dead Remix. I would love some critique as well.  
> Not beta'd.

  
_"Eyes on fire_   
_Your spine is ablaze_   
_Felling any foe with my gaze_   
_And just in time_   
_In the right place_   
_Steadily emerging with grace"_   


[\--Eyes On Fire, Blue Foundation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IHFVn0sv14)

  


The young man had been at the symphony over the weekend, the same that Hannibal had attended. He had been drunk, and felt the need to divulge his sexual relations with multiple members of the orchestra. Loudly.

During the intermission, he'd swaggered out of the men's room and bought another drink. His tie was dishevelled, and the amber liquid had sloshed onto the maroon plush carpet when he yanked it from the bartender.

It was an awful sight to behold, the man's moss eyes blazing with the liquor, his tongue swinging about in his mouth, spewing filth. What courage he had to bumble about like that, outing the first chair viola and shaming the flutist with his allegations. Hannibal's skin had crawled, his smile fixated, his steps calculated as he pictured his next piece. It had interrupted his pleasure for the first minute or so of the next movement, but the epiphany washed over him like a cool breeze.

With his mind set on this man's demise, he could happily enjoy the rest of his evening.

\-----  
Will woke, and the disorientation hit him with full force. He fumbled for his phone, which was left on the bedside table. _It's 11:00am. My name is Will Graham...I'm...I'm in Dr. Lecter's guest bedroom. And I...napped?_

The realization made him feel dizzy and he sat up, glad he'd stripped of his clothes. Although he couldn't remember dreaming, the sweating had persisted. He cursed under his breath, the smell of fear ruining the calming scent that he couldn't place his finger on earlier. After running a quick hand through his unkempt curls, he realized that the hope of taming his locks was futile.

He tip toed down the hall clad in only his boxers—he wouldn't want to get his sweat on the only clothes he had—not nearly as silent as Dr. Lecter always was, and stepped into the bathroom. There was a towel, and a bar of soap left out for him. It smelled like the forest. He hurriedly scrubbed himself down and tried to dry off best as possible before remembering that his clothing was in the bedroom. Will felt like a child, sneaking back into the room with the olive towel cinched tightly around his waist. What did he fear? The man was a doctor, he'd worked in emergency rooms before becoming a psychiatrist, opened cadavers before getting licensed. 

He clambered down the stairs fully dressed, with a hint of color that made him look slightly less like a corpse. His strides were purposeful once more as he reached for his jacket and swung it about his shoulders, pulling keys from his pocket. Dr. Lecter really didn't have to drive him, the trip was quite a distance. He felt much better now, anyways.

With the intention of telling the doctor just that, he walked towards his office. " Hannibal, I really want to thank you for allowing me to get some rest. You..you were right, as always," his gaze shifted downwards once more, unable to take the eye contact any longer. " But I can drive myself to the BAU, I don't want to put you out any more than necessary."

"Nonsense, Will. You're doing no such thing." Words were always so smooth coming out of Dr. Lecter's mouth, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips as the crow's feet crinkling around his eyes. The eyes that Will could never meet, not for long. " I think I will stop by the market there, the striped bass is coming into season now, right?"

Will's eyes brightened, and he caught the stare directed at him. A flush crept in under his cheeks. He made a noise of affirmation and turned towards the door. " We should get going, though. Jack won't want me late, assuming they've got an ID on the guy."

 

\-----  
In the car, orchestras serenaded Will, greens and blues flying by him in the day that had turned out to be exceptionally sunny. Will had gazed at the car with a hint of jealousy. It was sleek and black. When they cruised down the I95, it purred. Hannibal was in a cashmere sweater, the blue a reflection of the open sky above them. His slacks were pressed, his coat a darker shade than the tanned hands that held the wheel so steady. Will let out a slight huff at the thought, how easy it was for Hannibal to be so put together, where Will was just glad that his flannel wasn't that badly wrinkled and he'd managed to get most of the dog hair off of his coat this morning.

" Would you join me for dinner tonight?" Hannibal's question brought Will out of his head once more. He was only slightly taken aback. The doctor had fed him breakfast, allowed him to sleep and shower at his place, was driving him to work, and offering him dinner on top of it. It sounded like the life Jack Crawford might have with Bella, that Alana might have with whoever she chose to--

" Will?"

Hannibal had a smile on the edge of his lips again, and Will flushed. Was he really thinking those things? Maybe he was still tired. " I mean, I have to go back with you anyways, right?"

That came out wrong. " You know, my car is still at your house, and I'll be there already. I'm really grateful that you're doing all this--"

" I'll have to see if my seafood recipes can compare with yours." The sentence was soft and reassuring. Will knew he was being patronized, but he felt the pulse that had rushed into his ears quiet anyways. 

The only sounds for the remaining 20 minutes of the trip were the purr of the engine, the soft pizzicato of strings, and Will's heartbeat in his throat.

\-----  
" Hey, Graham," Beverly popped her head out of the break room, shoving a styrofoam cup of coffee at him. Her black hair whipped him in the face as she quickly went around the corner, back to the lab.

" Thanks, Bev," he huffed, following quick behind her. He adjusted his glasses as they came into the lab where Price was hunched over a display of the burns on the spine, and Zeller was arranging all of the miscellaneous forensic evidence they had picked up that morning. If he was at that point, they must have had an ID on the guy. 

" Michael Villiger, 32 years old, from White Hall, where we found him. He's a lawyer, last seen in his office yesterday evening." 

Will thought back to early this morning, the mist rising up around this body that had been arranged under a tall pine, belly first, with the spine jutting out in a severe kyphotic curve. The bow had been tied very neatly, a present.

" He died from alcohol poisoning." Will's head looked up at that. It was not unknown that some of the Ripper's victims were killed slowly, but it was a possibility that the man had been dead before their murderer had found him. " Wounds in his abdomen and along the spine were inflicted while still alive."

Or not. 

The pendulum began to swing as he closed his eyes again, the scene coming back to him.

_This man is a drunk. His consumption of alcohol causes him to say dangerous things, hurtful things. He cannot see what he does, and believes himself to be brave. I want him to feel the drink take away his life. I want him to drown in the alcohol. This is my gift to those he has hurt. This is my gift to the community._

_This is my design._

Will had a bland lunch from the canteen and then met with Jack a few hours later. They talked about the recent developments in the case. Will honestly didn't think that this is going to help them. None of the information they have is any more than the other cases. The Ripper took organs, he feels that he is doing a service to the world. Nothing here is going to help them catch the murderer, but Jack pushed him for more. Always pushing. 

" Will, I need you to give me something new. We can go back out to the scene, do you need more pictures? Let's go to the morgue." Jack pushed his office chair back and went to stand when someone stepped in the room. " Dr. Lecter! I didn't know you were in Quantico."

" I brought Will today, he hasn't been sleeping well and I feared for his safety." Will looked at each of them, still seated between the formidable men. Their eye contact was strong, it was level. He flinched away. " I believe we'll be leaving now. I have dinner to prepare and I think you will be happier with the results Will can bring on a full night's rest."

Jack's upper lip curled back for half a second. It settled into a smile. " Of course, Dr. Lecter. I hope you enjoy your meal." Will looked up to Jack. His face said that this was not finished. Of course it wasn't.

\-----  
Hannibal had come to get Will at 4:30pm, giving him enough time to have dinner ready by 7:00pm. He had expected the slight struggle inside of Jack. The head of the Behavioral Sciences Unit felt as if he owned Will Graham, but also did not want to seem like he was treating his ward too badly. 

Hannibal knew better. He knew that Jack would cave, knew that Will couldn't resist properly prepared fish. He knew that Jack would lose his grip on Will's leash, that it would eventually reside in his palm. 

No one could even fathom getting in his way.


	3. Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal feeds Will fish. Will goes bonkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate organic chemistry. I shouldn't have started to write this before my finals ended. Oh well.
> 
> Not beta'd, yada yada, listen to the song! This song has a very long version that's like 10 minutes, but I prefer the shorter one. 
> 
> Also, I'm hoping the rest of the chapters will be this length. Exposition is yucky.

  
_"I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy_   
_I'm tired of driving 'til I see stars in my eyes_   
_It's all I've got to keep myself sane, baby_   
_So I just ride, I just ride"_   
[\--Ride, Lana Del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvb8wdBglpw)

The drive back to Dr. Lecter's home seemed much longer than the journey earlier this morning. Traffic had only added fifteen minutes, but Will's nerves had been twinging quick and fast in his jaw. 

He had felt like such a child in Jack's office, between the two people in his life that seemed to make his decisions. Jack's led him to nightmares, to fear, to pain. Hannibal was taking him away from the gore and to something more wholesome. Even though it made logical sense, it still surprised Will how much he relaxed in the car. His eyes were hooded, hot forehead pressed against the cool window. There were deer running along the side of the highway where they were now, disappearing into the forest where a lone black stag stood, tall and strong among the trunks.

\---  
Hannibal had blackened the striper outside on his patio, the daylight still with them. Will helped set the outdoor table, arranging silverwear in the way he was instructed, filling a bucket with ice and chilling a white wine that was handed to him. It was good to have something to do. And the ice felt amazing on his skin. Was it really that warm out?

Will was down to his gray undershirt by the time they sat down to ate, ashamed of the sweat that still came off of his skin. Dr. Lecter served the fish with rice and a medley of vegetables, also procured from the market he'd stopped by. 

The meal, of course, was delicious. Even though Will had seen the doctor cook it, he inquired again about the process. For once, will felt in control of himself. He felt like he was speaking like a normal adult. His eye contact lingered longer and he noticed the dark flecks of maroon in Hannibal's eyes. They were untouched by the smiles that pulled at his lips every so often. The silk of his voice guided Will through the dinner, and he was allowed to help with dishes this time around.

The sun kissed cherry wood of Hannibal's privacy fence as Will took the step up off the patio and inside. He carried his plate, silverware, and wine glass to the sink where the doctor had started in on the rest of the mess. Will dried everything carefully with a towel as starch white as Hannibal's apron. He placed the pieces of china where instructed, terrified of ruining the pristine dishes.

When reaching for the last wine glass, his fingers brushed Hannibal's at the stem. A feeling shot through him so intense that he took two, three steps back. He watched the glass shatter on the polished floor, his mouth upturned in anguish. 

Intimacy was something that he had dreamed about with Alana, something forgotten months ago. But the graze of flesh on flesh, not something hidden by his shirt, not the bluntness of a handshake, it had been a reminder. A reminder of what it was like to feel that desire. 

" Dr. Lecter, I am...I am just so sorry," he stuttered, refusing to meet those eyes, ducking down to gather up the glass into the towel he wrapped about his hand. 

" Will."

Hannibal knelt before him and Will looked up for a moment. He fell back onto his ass from where he squatted, knocking his glasses ajar. There were antlers growing out of the doctor's scalp, above his ears. Dark, ivory tines grew and grew, coming towards him. He scrambled backwards, wine glass forgotten, sweat dripping anew from his pores. He took a breath.

_It's 7:30pm, my name is Will Graham, and I'm in Hannibal's kitchen._

He blinked and it was still there, the antlers were still there, so he screwed his eyes shut, rubbing his face with his knuckles, trying to get the images out of his head. It had been awhile since this had last happened.

"Will!"

Doctor Lecter pulled his hand away from his face and he hesitantly opened his eyes. Just ashen hair, still unslicked. It was not parted for antlers. Instictually, he reached out and brushed the hair to the side where the tines had stuck out in stark contrast to the civilized nature of the doctor. There was not a wound. 

He suddenly felt very crazy, and very out of control. The man he was half an hour ago disappeared in the calamity, holed back up inside. " Dr. Lecter, I need to leave."

Will stood, and Hannibal followed. His hand moved quickly, and grabbed Will's wrist. Two fingers on the pulse point, he was silent. So Will counted, while the doctor did the same.

_One, two, three, four, five_

" Your pulse is 130 right now, Will. I don't think you are in the proper state to drive home."

" I need to leave, Dr. Lecter. I am driving home." The fingers were still over the thin skin of his wrist, his heartbeat frantically attempting to push them away. His eyes met ones above him, and Will stepped back. Hannibal held firm, and the fingers _burned_.

His mind whirled and Will couldn't think straight. The hallucination, the intimacy, and the satiated feeling in his stomach were skewing his thoughts. He stepped closer this time and his free hand cupped the smooth, broad jaw. His head tilted up and chapped, dry lips found silken ones. They tasted of white wine. They tasted of cajun spice, of smoke from the grill.

The fingers on his wrist stroked gently, and Will's mind came back down. He pulled away, jerking his arm free in the same movement. He had just kissed his psychiatrist. Well, Dr. Lecter wasn't his psychiatrist. Even if Hannibal wasn't his psychiatrist, surely this was wrong on some level. He touched the burning flesh of his wrist with his other hand, and hobbled backwards, towards the door. Grabbing his coat, he moved out of the door with purpose. Some voice in back of his mind was screaming at him. This was terribly rude, to leave the good doctor by himself after breaking his wine glass, hallucinating him as some sort of animal, and then kissing him. But he had to get out. 

Will hopped into his beater of a car, got the key in the ignition on the fourth try, and peeled out of the drive. Hannibal was standing on the front step, towel over his shoulder. 

\---  
There was no music to listen on his drive home, so Will just counted. He counted, and he told himself where he was at the mile markers on the I95. He was home in 45 minutes, probably too quickly. He parked in the dirt and let the dogs out, relief falling into his stomach.

He poured himself a finger of whisky and sat on the front porch, watching his pack chase one another, throwing sticks brought to him. The best thing he could do at this point was to ignore what had happened, to forget about it.

As he watched stars appear, his mind wandered more. Dr. Lecter certainly wasn't unattractive. His hands were strong. He was extremely talented in the kitchen, gifted in the arts. Will thought of how his hair had hung free all day today, thought of the smile that pulled at his lips, thought of the way the sun had set behind him as they ate. The relief that was in his stomach pooled into something cold and he shook his head, pouring another finger. 

He thought of Michael, the young man who was a drunk. Will could be a drunk, when he chose to. It was very easy, out here with only nature and his dogs. 

When he fell asleep that evening, it was alcohol induced, with the dogs arranged around him in a protective barrier. 

He was asleep for an hour, when Hannibal came to him, caressing his stubbled jaw with steady, surgeon's hands. Their eyes met, and Will held his stare as the antlers grew, grew, grew. The doctor's hair was disappearing, his skin becoming black, his irises bleeding with those flecks of maroon, the traces of earth gone. The antlers made a cage around him, and when Hannibal moved in to kiss him, the tines pierced his chest, abdomen, arms, and legs, raising him up as lips met. His mouth tasted like ash.

Will woke with a start, the dogs scattering. The sweat had soaked through his shirt, and he'd forgotten to lay a towel out with the alcohol. He cursed and gathered up his sheets, taking them to wash. As the laundry ran, he went out with the dogs, and drank a cup of coffee. He showered after changing the load over to the dryer, and dressed to go fishing. It was very early, but he had time to kill. 

He had two fish in his bucket by the time that the water had numbed his feet. Even with the thick rubber to protect him, it was hard to stay out for more than three hours. He reeled the slack in on his line as the sun peeked out from between the trees. 

Gutting the fish brought him back to the physical reality of the world, blood spilling over his hands. His head was pounding from a hangover, his feet were thawing, and his legs felt wobbling from standing still for so long. The wind had blown his hair back and roughened his skin. He checked the clock on the stove when walking through the back door, and stopped. Something seemed wrong. He checked his phone, and saw that it was now...Monday? 

_One, two, three, four, five_

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and checked his phone again. His breath caught in his chest. 

_It's 8:00am on Monday, October 4th. My name is Will Graham. I am in Wolf Trap, Virginia, in my home._

He had two hours before he needed to be at his class.

He froze the fish, he showered, he shaved. He let the dogs out, he watched them enjoy the morning. When the house was secure, he left with the file about Michael Villiger splayed across his passenger seat. 

\---  
Will stepped in the lab after his lecture, to see if Price or Zeller had picked up anymore information on their victim. They had nothing. He went to the morgue, looked at the body, but felt nothing. The Ripper would kill again. 

He felt guilty.

\---  
Will let the week fly by and before he knew it, Friday morning was upon him. At 7:30, Dr. Lecter would expect him. His stomach fluttered.

He tried to keep that thought out of his head, to keep those brief moments in the recess of his mind, not at the forefront of his vision. But the lips had felt smooth even as he fumbled, all teeth. Hannibal had felt gentle, reassuring, like every other time Will was unsure. 

The profiler wasn't sure what was worse—the memory of his doctor's skin, or the hallucination that had followed him. His dreams were plagued by the stag. The day before, he had _seen_ it, head raised high, defiant on the edge of the wood as he let the dogs back inside. 

The first day he had dreamed of Hannibal, and believed to have slept for a few hours, it had been over a day. He had slept Sunday away, returning for Monday, when he was needed in Quantico. Will wasn't sure he had slept the entire time, the dogs having been fed and let out at least enough so that they hadn't pissed on the floorboards. 

He hated feeling so out of control. But pretending to be normal was the best that he could muster. The biggest step he could take was to walk into Dr. Lecter's office like nothing had ever happened. Hannibal was always polite, always civilized. Surely he would follow along. 

\---  
As Will pulled on his black wool coat, he checked the time again, just to make sure he was in his right mind. 

He pulled out of the drive in his beat up car, and turned on the classical station, something to soothe the roar of blood in his ears. Forty minutes into his drive, he was about to pull off the interstate and there it was—the stag. It jumped in front of his car and he swerved, trying to get out of the way, trying to miss it.

His foot clamped down on the break and he yanked hard at the wheel, but there it was, and the windshield shattered, his body rigid as the airbag sent him flying back. The seatbelt was tight around his chest, and the blood wasn't just roaring in his ears. It was a scream. 

_It's 7:15pm, my name is Will Graham._


	4. Buzzcut Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will suffers from some injuries and struggles to collect his thoughts while medicated. Hannibal weasels his way into Will's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I wrote another chapter.
> 
> But seriously my last final is tomorrow so expect an update later in the evening--celebration!
> 
> Listen to the song, read the unbeta'd chapter, leave some criticism!

  
_"I remember when your head caught flame_   
_It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain_   
_Well you laughed, baby it's okay_   
_It's buzzcut season anyway"_   
[\--Buzzcut Season, Lorde](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pstVCGyaUBM)

He was burning. His skin felt like it was on fire, his lungs were working double time. Will blinked and blinked, but something was blinding him. He reached for his face, but it wasn't helping. His right arm was pinned under something, he couldn't command it. Trying the left gave some results. His glasses were gone. They weren't on his face, he couldn't feel them. There were dips, dips in his face and he wiped, tried to scrub away what was blinding him. His hand came back and his vision cleared, to see red. There was blood from those holes, they were deep. He probed again, a stab of pain shot from his forehead. He ached everywhere. His jaw, his arm, his side.

He needed to call someone. He needed to get help. He managed to unbuckled himself, groping around for his phone, swiping at his face every few seconds to wipe away new blood. It was so hot in the broken, twisted metal. He tried to look for a fire, but there was none. _It's in you_ , something deep inside him whispered. 

His phone was still underneath him, in his back pocket. Of course. He pulled it out and dialed, pushing himself out of the window, glass already gone. 

" Did you run into traffic, Will?" The voice was gentle. It was smooth. It burned him. Like the liquor he'd tried to sink into that night, Hannibal's lilted tongue washed over him and some of the fever in his bones faded. He laughed, blood flew out of his mouth. Why was he thinking these things? He'd almost died. And when he looked at his car, at that stupid stag--

There was no stag. He'd hit a telephone pole, the front of his car wrapped around the thick wood. But there was no carcass, nothing for him to swerve out of the way of.

" Will?" The voice was more urgent.

" I wrecked my car, Dr. Lecter," he whispered, trying to ground himself, hoping this was just another stupid nightmare. More blood streamed into his face. " I... a deer ran in front of me and I swerved. I thought I hit it, but it's not there. I swore I hit it. I...I think I'm hurt. I can't move--"

" Where are you?"

There was an edge on his voice that Will wasn't going to question. He gave his mile marker and sat against the back tire, trying to breath, trying to remember who he was, where he was. His skin felt hot, his mind was racing. He checked his phone over and over again, contemplating dialing 911. But Hannibal was coming to get him. He would take him to the hospital. He was a doctor. He could fix it.

At this point, he had ripped part of his shirt off and was dabbing at his forehead. He allowed the cold metal of his car to cradle his head, and opened his eyes to a familiar hand on his shoulder. Large, calloused, confident. Will went to push himself up off the ground, but an arm looped under his knees, another around his back. He was being hoisted up like a fragile child by Hannibal Lecter, but his head swam too much to care. The pain was starting to set in, and every inch of his body that laid against the doctor's was on fire. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body was laid in the back seat, the burning faded.

\---  
When Will came to again, his first instinct was the yank the nasal cannula out of his nostrils. His right arm was heavy and his left moved sluggishly, flopping along the sheet. He felt dizzy and disorientated, like he was stuck in an undercurrent of the river. The sheets tangled about his ankles as he tried to lift his head and something was beeping, beeping, beeping--

" Will. You're in the hospital." Like the coolest trickle of water on the warm summer evening, Hannibal's voice coiled around his arms, around his legs, stilling them. He moved his head to where the sound came from, neck searing with pain at the movement. The eyes stared at him with the pity he always got, but something was lingering deep within. His bark colored suit jacket had a smattering of dark blood dried on the left shoulder, a smear down his right pant leg. Will felt guilty, allowed his head to loll back to the position he woke in. Staring at the ceiling was better than acknowledging what had happened.

What had happened?

" Dr. Lecter...you didn't have to stay," he mumbled, tongue feeling thick and fuzzy in his mouth. He coughed, and an over-the-bed tray with a pink plastic cup was edged towards him. He leaned up to catch the bendy straw between his ever dry lips, but a steady hand brought it down to his level. Hannibal was sitting closer now. He could smell the forest on him and the iron smell of his own blood. 

"Nonsense, Will." And this time, that phrase sounded sincere. Will couldn't say how many times those words had come from the doctor's lips—silky smooth, wet, white wine tasting lips.

He felt out of control, like he had that night in Hannibal's kitchen. He turned storm to earth and practically begged, " What is wrong with me?" His voice cracked and he felt very small.

" You have encephalitis, Will. Your brain is very inflammed. I have been suspect for some time, but the accident was enough for me to request a spinal tap in addition to your other blood work taken. You hallucinated an animal and got into a car wreck because of it. Your prognosis is extremely positive, but only with proper treatment. You'll be on some IV anti-inflammatory drugs for at least a month and will require bed rest during that time." Hannibal almost sounded... remorseful?

"So that's why I felt like my head was on fire," he laughed, honestly relieved. Maybe the feelings for Hannibal were a result of his body betraying him too. The idea made him sad. " What about the rest of my body?" He was trying to keep a mental checklist of all that hurt him so far, but it was just too much. He knew he was on a higher end narcotic, the weariness of his bones speaking volumes. 

" Laceration to the right mandible, compound fractures of the right ulna and radius, mild concussion, and crush injury to the right foot," came the clipped tone of the doctor who walked in. He walked Will through his prognosis once more, the physical therapy he would need for his right arm, and informed him that he could go home tomorrow, as long as he had someone to stay with. 

The universe really wanted to take a shit on him right now. Who else was he going to ask? Jack had Bella to worry about, he wasn't close enough with Bev, Jimmy, or Brian, and he couldn't bare to ask Ala--

" I will be supervising Mr. Graham," Dr. Lecter was assuring his physician, the two of them moving out to the hallway and speaking amicably as Will was left to pout like a child in the hospital bed.

He clearly had feelings for his psychiatrist and now they would be living together for at least a week according to the snippets he could hear from the doorway. This meant that he would be forced to face his feelings, to deal with them, and to talk about them. Almost like what he was supposed to be getting out of his therapy with Hannibal in the first place.

\---  
" I don't want to leave Wolf Trap." 

It was the one demand he made when Hannibal brought him breakfast the next morning, much better than the soggy cardboard he'd eaten the night before. He couldn't stand the idea of being shut up in that spotless mansion of a house that Dr. Lecter lived in, it was just too much for him. He didn't feel comfortable there. If he was going to be drugged up and stuck in bed all day, he wanted to be in bed with his dogs and to know exactly where the hell the bathroom was when he was delirious.

Hannibal didn't seem surprised. _Of course he was prepared for this._ The doctor was unpacking a pair of pajama pants brought from his own house, the same olive color that his towel had been last week. Will's clothes were covered in blood and shredded, so he would be leaving in utmost style—pajama pants and hospital gown. His physician had felt comfortable with Hannibal handling his IV and his doses of narcotics, so much that his discharge papers were already signed. 

Will wanted to get himself into the pants, but it really was impossible with how weak his limbs were at the moment. His right arm was in a cast that hung useless in a sling and his right foot was wrapped tightly, demanding a crutch for him to hobble about on. Together with the bandage slashed across his face and IV in his good arm, he looked like a right mess.

He allowed the help until the pants were above his knees, and then shooed Hannibal away, shimmying his way into them. Crutch in one hand and IV stand in the other, they made their way to the car.

\---  
Will wanted to go back to just being not-doctor/not-patient/friends. In the hospital, there was something to be distracted by, but the medication made his brain shrink to that of a goldfish's. He felt like he needed to look at everything, so he mostly stared at Hannibal.

Forty minutes of him taking in every crease in his skin, the lack thereof in his suit. He looked into those irises, saw the sun refracting in and reflecting off of them, trying to see the intricacies of the color, the maze of his soul. He took in the palette of his hair, blond to straw to silver, gray and black. It was slicked back now, and all Will wanted to do was to run his fingers through it like he had when the antlers had disappeared from his vision. 

" I'm sorry I left so abruptly," he whispered, head once again pressed to the cool window once he'd had his fill of Hannibal's face. That, or he felt self conscious of staring. He really couldn't tell the difference at the moment. " I know it was rude of me. I was scared."

" No need to apologize, Will." The way the words came out, it hurt. Will felt his skin try to shrink around his muscles and his cast itched suddenly. Maybe Hannibal wanted to forget, like Will had earlier, before the accident. 

The profiler felt lost in his head, unsure about what had been a hallucination and what had been real. Maybe he hadn't kissed Hannibal? _Oh, god. It was in my head._ A roll of disappointment and anguish unfurled in the lining of his abdomen. He felt sick. 

Last night, he'd hoped that this inflammation in his brain was the cause of his feelings for his psychiatrist. Now, he was afraid that he _hadn't_ kissed the man beside him. 

Will's head throbbed painfully and he groaned. This was too much for him, he needed to know what had happened between them. " Hannibal...I lost time on multiple occasions before the accident. I can't...I can't remember why I had left, anything besides dinner and then getting back home in Wolf Trap Saturday night. I lost all of Sunday too." 

" I need to know why I left. I have these...dreams, but I don't know what happened." He knew how desperate his voice sounded. The chemicals in his body made it hard for him to think. It was hard to deceive, let alone mask his feelings. 

" What happens in your dreams, Will?"

_Why can't he just tell me? We're going to be living together for over a week, cut the therapist bullshit._

Will didn't know what to say. He couldn't come up with anymore lies, or even half-lies. He was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. 

" I dream that you are a stag. You are a stag, and I kiss you."


	5. Heavy In Your Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will acknowledges his feelings as Hannibal struggles with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I'm done until my summer course! I'll probably have another chapter up before the end of night.
> 
> Listen to the song, Florence is my jam! Also I realized that all the songs are female leads thus far, but I promise there will be male voices as well!
> 
> As always, it's unbeta'd, and I'd love any concerns or criticism!

  
_"I was a heavy heart to carry_   
_But he never let me down_   
_When he had me in his arms_   
_My feet never touched the ground"_   
[\--Heavy In Your Arms, Florence & the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_eOmvM-4zc)

Will felt like maybe he should've waited until they were at his secluded house to raise his concern. He was trapped in this car, the last twenty minutes would stretch on forever with the stagnant cold air coming out of the vents before him, seeping through the thin, scratchy material of his hospital gown. In his house, he could have at least shut himself in his room. He could play with the dogs, Hannibal probably wouldn't come near his mangy pack. There was somewhere to escape to on his plot of land. In the car, he could only press his forehead more firmly against the window, wanting to slam the fragile bones of his skull against it repetitively out of frustration. 

" It is very interesting to me that you have pictured me as a stag and the animal that you claimed to have hit with your car was also a stag."

" Maybe my brain wants me to hunt and not fish."

" Perhaps you feel as if you are trying to hunt me." There was the slight upturning of his lips, the crinkle around his eyes. The hands were steady. Will focused on the sound of the windshield wipers swiping against the force of the rain that had started shortly after they crossed into Virginia. 

Will wasn't about to bring up the second half of his dream again. If Hannibal didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't reignite the discussion. 

\---  
When they pulled into the drive, it was still raining. The dirt was mud and Will held back a groan of embarrassment as he was lifted up again, the IV left in the car. 

" You'll end up falling if you try to limp inside," the doctor assured him. The first time this had happened, Will's brain was on fire and he had lost enough blood to be unaware of all the feelings that had washed over him.

Instead of fire on his skin, he felt warmth and comfort. Hannibal smelled like the earthy musk of the wood outside his house after it rained. His grip was reassuring, not too tight around the back of his knees, the edge of his shoulder. Will's eyes drooped and suddenly he was going down, down, onto the threadbare couch as the dogs hopped up around him. Instead of calloused hands there were sandpaper tongues. He smiled and slouched back, letting Hannibal do whatever it was that he was doing.

The IV was reattached into his hand and all but Winston went to investigate Hannibal. It seemed that he'd worn his brown coat on purpose—the hair wouldn't show nearly as much. 

" I haven't got a spare room, but the couch pulls out. I would offer my bed to you, but the mattress is just awful after all of my night sweats. You would probably be more comfortable down here. The dogs won't bother you, they'll be up with me." 

Hannibal was bringing in two brown bags of groceries, always prepared. He set them on the counter in his kitchen and turned back into the doorway, resting on the wall. He seemed almost casual, with a smirk fighting for it's place on his face. " Do you want to kiss me, Will?"

_Well, shit._

What was he going to say? If he lied, Hannibal would know. He would smell it on him. But he couldn't exactly tell this man that he was the only one Will felt safe with. That Will felt like Hannibal would carry him away from the terrors that plagued him night and day, that he craved the graze of those fingers against his own again, that besides Alana, he was the only one he felt comfortable around. But with Alana, as soon as he had acknowledged his feelings, she had seen how unstable he was, how unable he was to deal with the demands of emotional attachment. Maybe that had been the encephalitis?

" Will?" He was really getting tired of losing himself in thought lately.

" Well, yeah. I mean, besides the parts where I died in my dreams, it seemed nice." The intimacy, the wine, the spice.

In his dreams, the flavor turned to ash.  


Will looked up from his hands, hands that had grazed against Hannibal's. Hands that had dropped his wine glass. Hands that ran through his hair in search of a monster, had cupped his strong jaw to seek safety in his lips. 

Hannibal crouched before him, head cocked. He could breathe the doctor's air, could feel how controlled the older man was compared to his erratic pants. " Did it happen? Did I kiss you, that night?" He felt his lip quiver, the sting in his eyes. _Damnit, Graham, pull yourself together._

" Yes." The warmth encased him, and he looked up. He held Hannibal's gaze as the man moved closer to him. A hand on his shoulder, and the lips touched his own. No tines pierced him as he gasped, inhaling honeyed breath. A tongue moved to keep his lips parted, to wet the flaking skin and Hannibal's steady hand shifted to his neck, careful of the gauze. Will's breath hitched and he moved away, his left arm reaching out to push Hannibal away. He couldn't do this.

" Is it not as you remembered?" The voice had lost some of its calm demeanor and Hannibal moved to sit beside him on the couch, ignoring the dog hair. Did he want this?

" I don't know how you feel. It's not exactly fair that you can see through me, Dr. Lecter. I feel like my empathy doesn't exactly help with my romantic inclinations," his voice shook at first, but he felt more confident moving on. " You know, it's just weird. I felt like Alana and I had something going. We kissed and then she informed me that I was just too unstable. You're a psychiatrist. You know some of the fucked up shit that goes on in my head, but you made the move. It just doesn't make sense, unless that was some sort of unconventional therapy that you give to your not-patients." He was out of breath and the tears were stinging at the corner of his eyes again. It would be cruel to be kissed just because he seemed like he had needed it for his mental health. 

" Will, you know very well that I care for you. I believe there is more than enough evidence for that." Will looked over at Hannibal. The man had his fingers steepled over his abdomen, chest rising and falling under maroon fabric that played well with his eyes. His eyes were closed. He was trying to think. Had he caught Dr. Lecter off guard? " I don't find you as a means to an end, like your colleagues do. I have been very interested in you, ever since we met."

" Not in an experimental way?"

" I have no desire to dissertate on you, Will. I would like to explore you, all of you, in a more intimate manner." Hannibal turned back to him, and Will's eyes went wide. He went to rub his face, remembered the cuts on his forehead and groaned.

" Are you hitting on me, Dr. Lecter?" 

" I'm proposing that you allow me to carry you, in more ways than I already have. Let me to bear your burden, Will. You don't have to hold the weight of the world."

" I think you waited until I was on narcotics to ask this." But Will smiled. The tugging at his lips was an unfamiliar feeling. " Mine is a heavy load, Hannibal."

" I will shoulder it." The older man rose with finality, moving into the kitchen to finish putting away the groceries and to prepare a light lunch for them. Will moved in to help, but was instructed to sit and drink water. He told Hannibal about the fish he'd caught, they were still in the freezer to be prepared. 

\---  
" I don't understand what we're doing, Hannibal. I just think that you being in my house for a week while we're...dating...is too fast," he grumbled around a bite of the delicious sandwich. There was a pate, some sort of basil sauce with tomatoes and cheese. It was simple, but Will ate with gusto, realizing once more how hungry he was. He had moved his broken arm flippantly at the word _dating_ , the sling bumping against his chest. " Maybe you stay tonight, but go home tomorrow? I'll pay for gas, if you want to visit nightly or every other day for the first few days. But I've seen the IV bags changed out, have alarms for my pills. I just..."

" You're afraid of your own desire."

 _Damn him._ It had been years since Will had enough time on his hands to go out to the clubs and hook up with anyone. Now that he had someone rather willing here, he was anxious. He didn't know what was proper, how fast he should move, how slow they should take this. He didn't exactly want to jump the good doctor's bones, but heavy petting sounded glorious.

Apparently the look on his face had said enough. Hannibal stifled what sounded like a chuckle, and took a bite of the arugula salad with figs and a light vinaigrette. " I will visit every night for the first week, we'll talk about tapering off after that, and I won't take advantage of your mental state, William. Nor will I take your money." 

Will huffed and finished his lunch. Since the rain had stopped an hour ago, they sat on the porch and Will introduced each of the dogs properly, realizing how crazy he sounded as he rattled on about each of the seven in detail. Hannibal was more loving than he had anticipated, maybe these were dog-friendly clothes. They tossed sticks and balls for the animals and Will was grateful that they weren't rolling in the mud puddle on the other side of the yard. He would hate to bathe them in his cast or worse, ask for Hannibal's help. 

Hannibal's hand brushed over his, resting atop his knuckles so as to not disturb his IV needle. Will nudged each of his knuckles up, feeling each callous he could with his scraped skin. Again, he smiled.

\---  
They fixed dinner together, and marinated the fish for the following evening. As the dish cooked in the oven, Will turned on some film on Netflix. He felt comfortable sitting next to Hannibal, foot propped up on a cushion atop the table, pillows piled behind him. They were close enough so that he could feel the larger man's warmth, but Will leaned away from him onto the fabric. There was a throw lazily wrapped around his hips, and Hannibal's hand rested atop it on his thigh. If Will's arm wasn't broken, he would've held it.

Dinner went by without a hitch and Will showered as Hannibal did the dishes, plastic grocery bag wrapped about his cast. He leaned against the wall, taking breaks between his tasks. It was exhausting to be this broken. His bones ached and the medicine made him groggy. It was a hassle to drag the IV stand everywhere and Will was glad for the few moments in the car and here in the shower where he could unhook it. He thought about Hannibal. The man was being extremely accommodating of his couch bed, the dogs shedding on him, and his shabby kitchen. It was almost too good to be true. Knowing his luck, he was in a coma in the hospital still. This all was just a dream.

A knock came at the door and Will assured the other that he was almost done, he would be out in a bit. Hannibal walking in on him showering was definitely moving too fast.

\---  
Hannibal sat in the kitchen and looked out the window to the setting sun. It hadn't been hard to get Will to feel comfortable with him. The man associated him with positive, comfortable things. He had been his savior after the accident. He provided him with food, he was kind to his dogs. He had always enjoyed acting, so conveying a sincere interest of pursuing a romantic relationship with Will was also not difficult. 

What he hadn't counted on was actually feeling something. 

His stomach had stirred when he saw Will genuinely smile. Something beneath his person skin crumbled at seeing the man who was in perpetual agony actually feel elation. Bringing joy in another person, not through food or entertainment, but by offering yourself, was something he had not felt. Not in quite some time.

He tightened his jaw and looked down at Winston. He offered the canine a scratch around the back of his ears. 

The door opened to the bathroom and he brought up his walls once more. This time, he carefully buried the feelings that blossomed in his chest.


	6. Soil, Soil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal leaves Wolf Trap. Will is bored and has a lot to think about. Alana pays him a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3  
> This song is short and sweet, but always makes me think of poor, awkward, lonely Will in Wolf Trap.

  
_"All you need to save me_   
_Is call_   
_And I'll be curled on the floor_   
_Hiding out from it all_   
_And I won't take any other call"_   
[\-- Soil, Soil, Tegan and Sara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcVcm3LDXAk)

__When Will pulled out the photographs from the case, he searched for something new in the scene. Michael hadn't had much in common with the rest of the Ripper's victims. He seemed to be well-to do, and frequented Baltimore, closer to where their radius was. He was remembering the smell of rain and blood, ash and burned flesh, when Hannibal moved into the living room, a mug of tea in hand._ _

__" Have you called Jack yet?" Will would have to be out of the classroom for at least three weeks, and out of the field for a month. Jack was going to be the epitome of displeasure. It wouldn't be hard to find a substitute, and doing lesson plans would at least keep Will moderately busy while cooped up. It wasn't like he could go fishing or finish some of the renovations he wanted to on the porch in his current state. Not being in the field...Jack wouldn't take that half of this treatment so well. Will knew it was non negotiable, but the head of the Behavioral Sciences Unit would have a harder time seeing it. Especially with Will's recent lack of work ethic._ _

__" I'll do it tomorrow. They've got a temporary lecturer in because of my time in the hospital, but he doesn't know how long I'll be out. I can't deal with Jack today." He sipped thoughtfully at the tea, and smiled. There was a hint of honey at the bottom, the way he liked it. The two had only had tea together a handful of times, the small detail made him feel giddy. He reached over and grabbed Hannibal's hand this time, squeezing it._ _

__\---  
Will slept uneasily, the medications keeping him up. He couldn't get comfortable, no matter his exhaustion. When the sun rose, he decided to get up. Hobbling down the stairs quietly was no easy feat, but Hannibal was at least pretending to still be asleep when he scooted the IV stand past the couch, pack in tow. He let the dogs out as the coffee began to percolate, pulling out a frying pan and a few ingredients to make a simple omelet. It wasn't much, but maybe feeding Hannibal would show him how much he cared. _ _

__When the older man lumbered into the kitchen, hair thoroughly mussed, Will smiled. He had a bowl of orange, apple, banana, and strawberry pieces for each of them, as well as a swiss and baby spinach omelet with a piece of wheat toast on the side. Well, Hannibal's was. Will's had fallen apart when he tried to flip it. There was a mug of coffee sat out for each of them, spoonful of sugar in Will's._ _

__" I tried," he conceded, covering his free hand towards the meal, palm upturned. " You know, it's really hard to cook with just one arm, so be nice."_ _

__" I'm very grateful of your cooking, William." His accent was thicker in the morning, before coffee. Will felt glad that he got to experience that, his skin shivering pleasantly. The doctor drank deeply and Will leaned over him, kissing his forehead quickly before sitting. His blood rushed to his cheeks, that he had been so bold. He ducked his head and began to eat._ _

__Hannibal had complimented Will on his attempt at breakfast and insisted on doing the dishes. Will swallowed his handful of pills as the doctor changed his IV bag. He wrote detailed notes on how to do it, in case he was a bit out of his mind at the time. With a yawn, they moved outside again, taking a lap around the house. It felt good to be in the fresh air. Hannibal held his IV stand off the ground as they ambled along. It was close enough to hold his hand, right? When they settled back inside, Hannibal disappeared to shower and Will nodded off on the couch where the other man's scent lingered._ _

__" You snore."_ _

He awoke to drool on his cheek and scrambled up embarrassed, laughing a bit. " Really? I _snore_?" He hadn't known, it's not like the dogs could tell him. " Well, I drool too." He wiped at his cheek and showed the glistening digits to the other man. A smiled stretched over his face. 

__" I'm sure it's hard to tell when you rarely sleep, dear Will." Will made a noise of affirmation and waved his hand at Hannibal, drip line whipping around in response to his jerky motions. He pulled his laptop onto his thighs and started to lazily make a power point to send over to his sub._ _

__That's how they spent the morning, each doing his respective clerical work. Will sent e-mails and compiled gruesome photos. Hannibal made notes on patients and sketched the needle embedded in Will's hand. They took two laps around the house at noon and Will didn't even offer to help with lunch. His foot was aching, temple pulsing uncomfortably in response to the overload of pain. His head sunk down onto the table and he let out a low moan, unable to control himself._ _

__" You can take the next pill after lunch. Not before."_ _

__" I know when I can have my drugs," he snapped. His blue eyes glanced up to Hannibal's gaze. " I'm sorry. It just hurts, badly. I didn't mean to be crass."_ _

__Hannibal came over to him and took his good hand, the scrapes looking better than they had the day before. The other came up to his jaw, and the man kissed him tenderly. The first time they had kissed, Will had been crazy. The second, he was afraid that he was still crazy. Now, he enjoyed it. The profiler opened his lips to Hannibal, pushed his tongue out first. He wanted to show his interest, wanted to assert his affection. He tasted the second cup of coffee laced into Hannibal's tongue, the toothpaste wedged in between his teeth. When Hannibal pulled away, the younger man pushed his hand into his shaggy hair, and pulled him back for a quick peck._ _

__" I'm sorry," he reiterated, emphasizing it by nosing his face along Hannibal's smooth jaw. The smell of him was clear there. He'd brought his own soap._ _

__" You don't have to be. I wish you'd stop apologizing," Hannibal sighed and went back to lunch. It was a salad with baby greens, turkey, pecans, strawberries, gorgonzola and the same vinaigrette as the day before. The large bowl was placed before him and they ate, sipping at iced tea Will had fixed this morning._ _

__\---  
Will took his pills and he napped that afternoon, exhaustion catching up with him. They had been sitting on the couch again, Will's foot resting on Hannibal's lap. His other leg had fallen off the furniture, and his head was cradled into the crook of his good arm, propped on a pillow. He slept though Hannibal moving out from beneath him and rearranging his body beneath a blanket, through the sounds of dinner being made. The older man woke him with a kiss to his forehead and a gentle shake of his shoulder. _ _

__Will ate slowly and realized that Hannibal would be going home. He thought about asking him to stay another night, but realized he would grow dependent on the man if he couldn't get back on his own feet. He helped with dishes and Hannibal pointed out the leftovers that were in his refrigerator and freezer, lessening his need to cook for the first few days. He had also taken the liberty of bringing over fresh squeezed juice for the mornings and fresh vegetables. As much as Hannibal wanted Will to eat regularly, he felt sluggish with all the food in his belly._ _

__He called Jack before the doctor left, at his insistence. There was yelling and Will almost caved. He insisted that his e-mail would be open, that his phone would be charged. No reason to worry. He couldn't look at the bodies, sure, but he could interpret as much as possible from the comfort of his home._ _

When Hannibal moved out the door, Will stopped him on the porch, hand resting on the strong muscles of his back. The blond turned back to him, right hand dropping the bag with a _thump_ in favor of stabilizing a crutch-less Will. The grip was firm on his hip as Hannibal caught his lips and he smiled against them. It was short lived, but left the profiler feeling energized. 

__" I will call you this evening."_ _

__" I'll wait up." He waved and let the dogs roam for a bit before corralling them back inside._ _

__\---  
Hannibal called to make sure he took his medications and Will fell asleep with the phone against his ear. When he woke, it was to a knock at his door. He shuddered, the fall cold was starting to seep into the house and his sweat soaked skin turned cold. He wouldn't be able to change his shirt in a timely manner with his arm, so he settled for hobbling down the stairs, not wanting to offend whoever it was with his sorry state. The new shirt was slung over his shoulder, ready to be changed into when he got this person out of his hair._ _

__He cracked the door open to early morning, hesitant to let his visitor see him so disheveled. When he saw dark hair, he shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his palms. His new glasses were sitting on his nightstand still, he'd forgotten them._ _

__"Alana?" His voice was uncertain, but she was standing there in heels, dark blue dress and a gray coat. A shiver rippled through her slim body, and he ushered his old flame inside. The shoes clicked on his floor and his pack came up to greet her before he halted them with a whistle. She was obviously on her way to work._ _

__" What are you doing here? It's...," he glanced at his watch, screwing up his eyes a bit to get the time. " It's ten till seven. What's up?" Will didn't know what to say to her. They'd rarely talked after that moment a few months ago, besides formalities and worried comments on his haggard looks._ _

__" I'm sorry, Will. I wanted to apologize," she said. Her large, doe eyes begged of him. They held remorse deep inside them. Will felt bad. When he looked at what she was offering, he laughed. In her right hand was a bag of really high quality dog treats, doughnuts in the other. " I have some coffee in the car too. It's from that artisan place you like two streets over from my place." She set the food on the table and clicked her way back out to her car, fetching the two cups of coffee, steam rising off of them in the early morning light._ _

__" I cancelled my first two appointments this morning, I wanted to come over and talk with you. After Hannibal called me--"_ _

__" Hannibal called you?" Will wasn't exactly surprised, but he was taken aback. He knew the doctor had been obligated to call his place of work, but he didn't think that this was warranted. Maybe in his drugged stupor, he had missed it._ _

" Yes, Hannibal called me," she restarted, a look of confusion in her eye. " I realized all the things I said were unjustified. Will, you have suffered so much at the hands of the FBI, to save lives. Not only were the cases getting to you, but you were _sick_! You're lucky to have Hannibal around, he told me about the accident and I just feel awful. I hate that I said those words to you, Will. I really do." Her eyes were wide, pleading again. Will wasn't sure what she wanted. He sipped thoughtfully at his coffee, hot liquid pooling in his empty stomach. 

__" It's okay, Alana. I didn't know, nobody knew. It's not your fault. I would've thought the same if I were in your position." He smiled softy, sympathetically at her. Had Hannibal really given him this much self-confidence in two days? That was impossible. But he wasn't embarrassed anymore. He wasn't afraid of saying the wrong thing to her. There was nothing wrong to say._ _

__They talked for an hour, each eating two doughnuts and feeding the dogs a few treats. Will didn't feel the need to mention the change in his emotional state, Alana was just thrilled that he wouldn't be seeing any more bodies soon._ _

__\---  
After she left, Will went upstairs to take his medication, per text reminder._ _

_Don't forget your hydrocodone this morning. Will call at noon. -H_

__His phone buzzed noisily afterwards, but it was Jack. He silenced it. The call could wait. He didn't really want to speak to anyone besides Hannibal now. Will showered and made the slides for his lecture for the rest of the week. He realized that after doing that, he wouldn't have much else to do in the coming days._ _

__He took his lap around the house, much harder without someone to stabilize his IV stand. He made multiple stops before making it back to the front porch. Will drank more water and rested on the couch, drifting back off. Hannibal's scent lingered among the fabric, but the nightmares came to him._ _

Garret Jacob-Hobbs was staring him down, cutting his throat now. Hannibal was shooting the murderer and clutching at his neck with a towel, blood splattered across his high cheekbones. His eyes had gone the dark, deep color of wine. Will gasped for breath, his eyes rolled in their sockets, wild, trying to focus on the man saving him. Hobbs pointed at Hannibal. _See!_

__He woke with a start, sweat pouring down his back. His phone was vibrating. He checked the time. Two past twelve._ _

__" Hey, Hannibal," he gasped out, looking down at Winston who nosed at his knee worriedly._ _

__" You sound disturbed, Will. What has happened?" The voice was calm. It was the psychiatrist in him._ _

__" I just... I had a nightmare. I don't want to talk about it. Please."_ _

__" Did Alana come over?" Will huffed into the phone at that. The older man had planned it. Probably had suggested she see him this morning._ _

__" Yes, did you put her up to it? She brought me doughnuts and dog treats, so I'm not mad. You would never feed me that much sugar."_ _

__Hannibal laughed, a throaty, rumbling sound. " No, I wouldn't. You know there is some evidence to sugar causing more...vivid dreams?_ _

__" But yes, William. I did advise Alana to visit you. I thought seeing her after our revelation would allow you to feel more secure in your feelings. If you still feel conflicted, we should speak about it."_ _

__" No! No, Hannibal, I. I am...happy?" He didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but it was. His head felt less foggy every day and he knew he had someone to count on now. Hannibal would share his burden. Was that happiness? He wasn't sure._ _

__" I am so glad."_ _


	7. Agape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal feels as if he is losing some of his ever present control as his relationship with Will develops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal POV! This was really a struggle for me to write, I hope that I've properly captured his character. Please, please, please throw any constructive criticism at me for this!
> 
> When you listen to this song, I prefer the City Sessions version. It lacks the wonderful banjo, but is preformed in a chapel that emphasizes the strong emotion of the lyrics via amazing acoustics. Bear's Den is the best!

  
_"For I'm so scared of losing you_   
_And I don't know what I can do_   
_About it_   
_So tell me how long, love, before you go_   
_And leave me here on my own_   
_I know it_   
_I don't want to know who I am without you"_   
[\--Agape, Bear's Den](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-lrB-NhMuA)

With a forceful, precise stroke, Hannibal cleaved hand from wrist. He repeated the action, and set the useless specimens aside. 

The woman was already dead. He had given her mercy that she had not shown to others. He had injected an air bubble into her carotid, the embolism taking her relatively quickly. She had been alive as he marked surgical sites on her body, tongue removed from her mouth. 

Now, he arranged her artfully. He had removed her heart and kidneys, sewing her back up tastefully and replacing the bloody scrubs with new ones. He put the severed hands in the large pocket on her left hip and took multiple pictures of her with her own mobile phone. The only prints would belong to this middle-aged nurse.

She had been a gossip, the worst kind. She took advantage of the high-profile patients that passed through the sliding doors of the ER, always quick to get her filthy hands on their charts. Hannibal knew the kind from his days in the pit, always loathe to allow them in his service. 

This woman had been there the night Will was admitted, his eyes rolled back into his head, damp curls pushed back, and compound fracture exposing bone to the other patients in the waiting room. Hannibal held him bridal style until they offered up a gurney. He saw the flash as he pushed back the curls once more, picking a piece of glass out of the pock-marked forehead. His head had snapped up, glancing to where the offending woman was. That had been highly inappropriate.

After regaining his composure, he calmly stepped towards the nurse who had turned back over her charts. He tapped her shoulder and politely informed her of the very serious breach of privacy she had just committed and the multitudes of ways that she could lose her status as a RN if the picture was not deleted in front of his eyes. 

She hadn't even seemed apologetic.

It was unusual for Hannibal to act without first considering the consequences of his decisions, but this evening had been most interesting. It had not been a part of his design to have Will get into the car accident, nor be the first person that the young professor called. It seemed that Will was truly associating him with safety at this point. He had been momentarily concerned about the intensity of Will's injuries, but while extensive, they were not fatal. 

He had known about the encephalitis for months now, allowing it to slowly age in Will like a fine wine. Each time the brunette had visited, the sickly sweet scent of his fever had come to Hannibal with a renewed strength. He had hoped to allow Will to descend into madness, carefully arranging the Copycat murders so that evidence would lead back to his dear, sweet William. Hannibal would be his anchor while incarcerated, and provide evidence to free him. Inevitably, the doctor would help him piece his life back together. This time, there would be a crack in Will, where that deep darkness could leak out. Hannibal would cultivate it and mold it. Will Graham was his most beautiful design.

When he had pulled off to the shoulder on the highway, his steps had faltered. Seeing blood on Will, the profiler's own blood, was not as pleasing as he had hoped. The smell of iron invaded his nostrils. They flared and there was the fever, burning high. Two scents that had once brought him so much joy now made him hesitate. He picked up the young man and Will looked straight into his eyes. " Please, Hannibal," he begged, hand coming and gripping his shoulder. Blood gushed from the attached arm. _He knows_.

Hannibal could see it in the deep recesses of those eyes. A flicker of resignation, a light switch being flipped, the realization washing over the back of Will's beautiful maze of a mind like the peak of a tidal wave. There would only be so much time before the crest came crashing down.

Time for a new design.

 

\---  
It had been easy enough to make Will feel like he was eager for this relationship. Soft touches, warm gazes, and intimate gestures. The young man had even cooked breakfast for him, Hannibal wincing at the clatter of dishes from his place on the lumpy couch. Will was starved for touch and comfort, that much was obvious. While the lust vibrated on the very edge of his skin, his pores exuded affection. The scent of fear had all but dissipated. If only he knew what the arms he swooned into had done. 

He found himself watching Will closely throughout the day. The man's lips were no longer in the straight, hard line they always were. When he napped, the soft snores that escaped his lips on each exhale set rhythm to the movement of Hannibal's pencils. With only a 4B to work with, the sketch was not as he hoped, but still designated the wounds in the younger man's forehead, along his now shaven jawline. His face was contorted into one of concern with sleep and Hannibal wondered what fleeting images passed vividly through his head. 

He had called Alana during his preparation of dinner. She had cried on the other line of the phone, comfortable with letting her guard down around her mentor. Hannibal assured her that none of her actions were unforgivable, urging the therapist to visit Will the following morning. 

" He's feeling much better."

\---  
When he left, the kiss had been urgent on his part. The unfamiliar feelings had been steadily looping their way around his muscles, constricting his movement. Hannibal was by no means thirsty with lust as Will was, he was more than capable of finding prey that did not end up at his dinner table. Emotional attachment was a foreign beast to him, something long left behind in a forest many years ago. Those wide eyes reminded so much of another's, the way the small hand had touched between his shoulder blades. His muscles had tensed, his mind went into overdrive.

Who was this man that could rip such force from his heart? Hannibal felt sick with emotion on his drive home. He called Will that evening as promised and left for a hunt the moment that the light rumble of breath came from the other line. He had to feel like himself again, like a predator. He wasn't one to lose his footing, to put other's needs before his own gain. Hannibal Lecter was a gracious host, but he was not a warm lover. 

When he returned home, it was to silence. Adrenaline was pumping through his body, his legs were restless. The doctor went for a run. He had to get this out of his system, there were patients to see the following day.

As his mind cleared, he realized how careless this decision had been. The nurse's death had been warranted, but his passion had gotten the best of him. He hadn't needed meat for another week. 

Hannibal tried to shower the doubt from his muscles and settle into a book before sleeping, but it was futile. Suddenly his mind was racing in a way that reminded him of the cold, starvation, and anguish. He slumped into the bed and shut the light off, hoping that the exhaustion in his bones would take him under, relieve him of the thoughts that plagued his mind.

Will would find out, sooner or later. That had always been a part of the plan. When the profiler discovered Hannibal's true nature, it would disappoint him. He would be wroth with the doctor. There was nothing that Hannibal could do to prevent his departure from their mutual relationship, at first. He would leave him gifts. There would be a way to convince the other man of what he was capable of, what beautiful artistry he could present to the world. Hannibal would seduce him.

\---  
The following day, Hannibal forewent visiting Will. It was carefully calculated. The younger man had protested when Lecter stated he would be returning to change out his IV bag and provide him dinner. He had left Wolf Trap not even a day ago and was truly short on sleep from his night time escapades. As expected, Will insisted that Hannibal shouldn't waste his time coming all the way out to Virginia, that he was capable and there were plenty of left overs. The older man had made all the right insisting phrases before giving in. Giving Will his independence for the next few days would allow him to feel comfortable in their relationship, while simultaneously causing him to realize how much he truly craved Hannibal's presence.

He visited twice a week for the next two weeks, staying the night each time. He brought food to prepare and the last night, Will had caught them fish. 

" I was sitting in a folding chair the entire time," he insisted when Hannibal had raised his eyebrows. 

After the third week, Will could forgo the IV drip for anti-inflammatory pills. He would be taking these for the rest of his life in order to prevent the fire from kindling itself again. 

As soon as the needle had been removed and Hannibal placed a bandage over the hole, the younger man had kicked the IV stand away and thrown himself upon the doctor. The swift attack had been unexpected and Hannibal fell upon the couch, the back of his knees hooked about the edge. Will straddled his waist and carded his good hand through the straw curtain, pushing it back from deep eyes. Their lips met with fervor and Hannibal steadied his injured lover with both his hands. He pulled away and moved his right finger to the chapped lips, running slowly along the bottom one. It was cracked, rough, and bruised by Will's eagerness seconds ago. 

" You should give me more warning next time, Will." The doctor easily lifted him by his hips and deposited Will on the other side of the couch as he rose up. The profiler had been insistent on Hannibal removing the IV as soon as he gotten in the door, promise having been made last week. He hadn't even taken off his jacket or shoes before complying with the man. Hannibal had found it harder and harder to resist the smaller things Will asked of him as the days ticked by. He texted him more frequently, brought baked goods when he visited. Often, there was wine now that Will had weaned off the narcotics. 

There was comfort in evenings with Will. The man preferred not to share so many words between them, Hannibal was happy to give the other silence. He read or sketched and Will played with his pack. He sat in a folding chair besides the river, wind snaking through his curls. He allowed Hannibal to shave him, didn't complain when his putrid cologne was replaced with a more subtle scent. When the offending smell had been washed from his house, the doctor's head was clear. He could smell the riverbed on Will, mud and life nestled within his pores. 

Hannibal settled back onto the couch with a glass of sauvignon blanc for each of them. They would be having fish today.  
When Hannibal returned to the living room to call Will in for dinner, he frowned at the pictures before him. After killing the nurse, he had no reason to kill again for some time, his larder thoroughly stocked. 

" She worked at the hospital that I was at. They found her in the parking lot, leaning up against the back wheel of her tire." Will's voice sounded strained. He was trying to piece together the puzzle and part of Hannibal wanted so badly for him to _see_. Will would accept him, the doctor was positive of it. 

" Perhaps another time, Will? Dinner will be getting cold, the fish you caught was just marvelous for the dish," he softly murmured the words against the man's shaven neck, breathing in the smell of rain and worms trying to escape death beneath the soil. The muscles tensed, and his hands worked across his shoulder gently, soothing his frayed nerves. This case had been bothering the young man for quite some time, more than the previous. 

With good reason.

\---  
Hannibal was fluffing the pillows on the couch and pulling back the covers of his makeshift bed when he heard the creak of stairs. He'd just seen Will to bed, making sure that he was comfortable before coming back down. The doctor was more than aware of how painful it was for Will to make his way up and down the stairs multiple times during the night. 

" Will?" There was always a possibility that he had fallen asleep and somnambulated out here, but it was highly unlikely. Judging by the groans of the iron wrought bed frame, it took Will a good amount of tossing and turning to reach tranquility each evening. 

" Hannibal, I... You know, it's just so cold and drafty down here now, with winter almost here. I feel guilty. Would you like to stay upstairs with me tonight?" The question had been more of a plea and Will sounded very lost. Maybe he was having trouble finding his way down this twisted path. Hannibal had tried to light it best he could with torches, gouging deep marks in the trees. Understandably, Will did not wish to continue forwards. The denial he possessed was extraordinary but unsurprising. Who would want to develop a relationship with The Chesapeake Ripper? 

Hannibal knew that Will was the only one who was capable of such a feat.

He just hoped that the young man could see it in himself.


	8. Sleeping Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Will becomes more intimate with Hannibal, he sees farther than he wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORNplotplotplot
> 
> More smut to come, I promise! 
> 
> All constructive criticism is loved!

  
_"And I'm afraid_   
_To sleep because of what haunts me_   
_Such as living with the uncertainty_   
_That I'll never find the words to say_   
_Which would completely explain_   
_Just how I'm breaking down"_   
[\--Sleeping Sickness, City and Colour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFjqQh7TSTo)

Will was afraid that Hannibal would be his overly polite self when the proposal fell awkwardly from his lips. Even caught off guard, barefooted in dark cotton pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hugged his muscular arms in all the right places, the doctor was more put together than Will was on his good days. Instead, a smile had crept onto his face and one large hand came to rest upon the base of his spine as they made their way back upstairs. Will was intensely grateful that he didn't have to carry his IV stand up and down the steps any longer. This time, he took the hand from his back and interlaced their fingers, leading the older man into his bedroom.

He had his usual two towels spread out on his side of the queen sized bed, one on the pillow case, another down the length of where his body would lay. The blankets had already been rustled from when Will had decided to hop out of bed, that he needed more than the comfort of Hannibal's presence inside his house. He returned to his spot and patted the bed next to him. When the other man had entered, he shooed the dogs downstairs. He would trade their warmth away tonight. Will turned on his left side, reaching to dim the light as the bed dipped with the weight of another. He didn't think he could manage eye contact tonight—finding the strength to ask Hannibal to bed had taken all of his courage. 

The warmth shifted close to him and he felt a short inhale at the nape of his neck, the short dark curls rustling there. The larger man wrapped an arm around Will's waist and pulled his torso back so their skin was only separated by garments. Will's breath hitched in his throat when he felt an open-mouth kiss being pressed to the back of his neck. 

" Hannibal, I--"

" Do you want me to stop, Will?"

" No." 

Hannibal's voice had been husky with something that was not sleep, causing a chain reaction in Will's abdomen. Something licked at his insides, he felt his flaccid member stir against his thigh. His breathing became more shallow as Hannibal's hand splayed out across his hip, digits dipping beneath his shirt. The touch he received was gentle and calming. Even as arousal unfurled inside him, Hannibal's movements did not carry further intentions. Silently, Will was grateful. 

The lips had moved to the juncture between neck and shoulder and Hannibal nosed into the skin, inhaling more deeply. While his hand had stilled, the good doctor felt more than comfortable letting his tongue dart along Will's neck, collecting the slightest bit of sweat that had oozed from his skin. He kissed softly along the sensitive skin and Will gasped when teeth touched along his shoulder. Hannibal had used his other hand to move the shirt aside, and closed his mouth along the skin, a pleasurable pressure rising up the younger man's nerves. Blood vessels rose to his skin and popped as Hannibal sucked greedily on his flesh, a low moan escaping the younger man's lips.

Hannibal Lecter—an esteemed psychiatrist, a wealthy man who attended socialite events in Baltimore—was claiming Will Graham, the broken show dog of the FBI. A tear slipped down Will's face as his Adam's apple bobbed with the pleasure that crashed over him. It was no longer purely physical. 

He flipped onto his other side, nearly whacking Hannibal in the face with his cast. He grabbed the straight line of the older man's jaw with his hand and pulled him close. The kiss was haphazard, sloppy. Will could only feel the warmth and passion that pulsed through his veins, with those wet lips returning his desire. 

" Will, tell me to stop," Hannibal rasped, accent thick with something dark. The moonlight peeked in through the curtains, and something flashed deep within the doctor's eyes. He seemed to be out of his comfort zone, although Will had previously considered that to be everywhere. 

" I don't want you to." This time, it wasn't his dry spell that caused the reaction. It didn't matter that he felt out of practice, he knew Hannibal would be accepting. He could feel it.

With his limited movements, Will rolled the older man onto his back, straddling his waist. He pushed up the cotton that hid olive skin, his free hand running over the flat plane of Hannibal's muscled abdomen. He brushed into thick hair and felt a new reverence for the man below him. Calm, cool, collected Doctor Lecter was falling apart in the moonlight below him. Will dipped his head back down, kissing breathlessly while his deft hands untied the string to the other man's pants. He'd gotten used to undoing these ties with one hand after three weeks. 

Honestly, Will didn't know where to start with this. He'd never been with a man before. The idea had never bothered him, obviously, but he had no experience beyond knowing what felt good to him. Even so, it'd been so long since he'd received pleasure from a hand that wasn't his own. He was nervous but determined. Hannibal had given so much to him since the accident—food, comfort, company, and confidence. There had to be some way to return the favor besides his poor cooking.

" Will," the older man gasped, breaking their kiss. " Will, you don't have to do this."

" Nonsense, Hannibal." Will smiled wryly up at him, and dipped his hand below the waistband of the other man's pants. He cupped the growing length he found there and squeezed encouragingly before shifting his position once more, to lay on his side. He kissed the jaw above him, and then brought his hand to his mouth to spit in. When he gripped Hannibal's hardness, his mind fluttered away briefly. _God, I want him in me. He's so fucking huge._

Will blushed in the darkness and Hannibal pulled his pants down to mid-thigh, below his balls. A gasp had escaped those lips when the air touched him, when Will touched him, and a hand threaded within Will's curls. The profiler glanced up at Hannibal but the eyes there were heavy-lidded as his hand moved with purpose. Will could feel the other man's cock pulse and twitch in his hand as he spread the beading of precum over the thick smooth head of his cock with a quick thumb, dragging the remainder back down to re-lubricate his shaft. 

Hannibal, image of control that he was, was trying his best not to cant his hips up into Will's grasp. The younger man could feel the small twitches in his pelvic muscles, could hear the smothered gasps and groans that Lecter attempted to stifle by hiding his face in his upper arm. But Will could see the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest, could feel the nails scratching at his scalp, tugging at his locks. As embarrassed as he had been, the pleasure of another was enough to make him feel good. His own cock was stirring in his flannels and he felt something drop in his groin as Hannibal gave one, hard thrust into his vice-grip, three short bursts of semen falling upon his stomach. The noise the other man made was a heavenly rumble, the kind of possessive sound that Will couldn't quite decipher. 

Will watched Hannibal move off of the bed, the sway of his hips with low riding pants as he moved to the downstairs bathroom to clean himself off. He could get used to that sight, or even better—naked. A pleasurable shiver moved down his spine again and the young man glanced down to his crotch. He really didn't feel comfortable with Hannibal touching him...not yet. He couldn't let himself get that lost in front of the other male, not yet.

When Hannibal returned to bed, Will was already asleep.

\---  
 _Will laid on sheets of satin. The high thread count was white on the edges and stained dark red where he laid, bleeding out quickly. He was pinned on his back, antlers studded into the mattress within an inch of his skin, all around him, caging him. They were black where the tines combined at the head of the stag, but ivory when coming close to Will. The stag huffed at him, he could feel its breath on his feet._

_The great beast shifted to the side, the antlers moving against his skin. They were smooth and cold. Garrett Jacob Hobbs was in the corner of Hannibal's guest bedroom—that's where he was, he saw the ornate bookshelves lining the walls. "See," he rasped, as Hannibal riddled bullet holes into his chest. Hannibal stepped inside of the room and looked at Will. Something was wrong in his eyes, some monster had peered at him, not the Hannibal Lecter that he knew, that he cared about. That he...touched._

_" Dear Will, let me help you," the man murmured, crossing the expanse of the room silently. He reached between the tines, and ran his hand down Will's chest. He was naked. His chest opened with the movement of his hand, and as the blood poured, Hannibal reached in to grab his heart and pulled it free._

_He took a bite._

Will sat up and flailed in the sheets. His sore foot was caught, wrapped in the loose end. He felt the thud of impact on his cast and looked over, horrified. He'd clipped Hannibal in the shoulder. 

" Will, are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?" 

Even after being slapped with month-old, stinky, plaster, the man was all courtesy. 

When he looked at the doctor, he did not see the monster hiding in his eyes. He did not see blood on his lips, an organ in his hand. The longer he looked, the less of the terror he could visibly see. In his heart, he felt something change. He couldn't stop staring at Hannibal. 

" Will?" 

" Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, though. Fine, Hannibal." He smiled weakly, and swung his legs off the bed. He moved to shower. Today, his cast would come off, leaving no room for smacking Hannibal with it anymore. This was also his first day back in lecture. He was looking forward to doing something other than lazing around with his dogs all day. 

As the warm water washed sweat from his skin, Will couldn't help but feel uneasy. This was his second dream where Hobbs and Hannibal had been associated. Now, there was the link between cannibalism in between the two of them in this dream. Hannibal had _eaten_ his heart. 

He thought about the locked cellar he had attempted to go into for wine one evening.

The careful, steady hands that knew every inch of the human body. 

His muscular body that hadn't even flinched when he was hit with the heavy cast. 

Hannibal wasn't just an alpha male. He was a killer.

\---  
Will went to his doctor's appointment, and lectured. He couldn't remember much of anything that happened that entire day. Hannibal had fed him something and kissed him goodbye. His cast had been sawed off and Will wished he could take another shower. He itched at the awful skin, saddened by his atrophied limb. His lecture was mind numbing. He could only think of Hannibal's large, calculating hands. 

The Ripper definitely had a medical background. So did Hannibal.

There were too many similarities. As Will poured over the files, he couldn't detach. When he looked at the photos of the nurse, he wanted to vomit. She was in the same position that he had been after his car accident. Her right foot had been crushed. He remembered that the Ripper was a cannibal and then he promptly went to the nearest bathroom to vomit.

He ignored the texts that he had received and the call that came that evening. He couldn't speak to Hannibal, he needed more space, more time. He needed to analyze what he thought he saw, what he didn't want to believe. He wanted the Hannibal that had let his head fall back in the throes of pleasure the night before, had been brave enough to wrap himself about Will despite his night sweats.

On the third day, Hannibal's car was purring in his driveway. He heard the door slam and the crunch of gravel beneath shoes. The man knocked politely and offered to make lunch for the two of them.

" I caught some bass this morning, just got done gutting it. We could cook that."

At this point, Will was going to pretend as if nothing had happened. He explained to Hannibal that it had been exhausting going back to Quantico, even though it hadn't been. He said that the drive was making him tired and he'd just forgotten to charge his phone for the past two days after it had died. To seem sincere, he purposefully plugged it in. 

They ate and talked about Hannibal's trip to the new art exhibition that had opened in Baltimore. The older man offered to take Will there this weekend and out to dinner. His heart fluttered in his chest, but he didn't know what to say. What if his gut was right? He hadn't yet given himself away to this man totally. He could still hold back. He agreed amicably and Hannibal insisted on picking him up from work at the end of the week. Will couldn't say no.

Will offered Hannibal the other bass that he had caught, wondering if the older man would take the bait. Did he stock his refrigerator with meat that was cut from animals, not humans?

" Dear, sweet William," the man had murmured against his neck. He kissed him fully and accepted the wrapped fish in a paper bag. " This is very kind of you. I'll prepare it carefully."

\---  
When Will walked up to the next body, he swallowed bile.

Laid across the man's lap, between upturned palms was the bass that he had gutted the week before, paper wrappings falling about it.


	9. Midnight Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will struggles with having Hannibal inside of his head and heart and turns to the man he wants to hate for a good night's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this took a lot out of me.
> 
> The songs are now linked to their titles, thanks to the lovely suggestion of TayoAnn. They've been so helpful to me! :)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy

  
_Tearing through the evening, I call your name._   
_I call and wait, the damned are answering._   
_Staring down the demons._   
_I know your eyes, but not that smile._   
_You tricked me into you._   
[\--Midnight Land, Empires](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7FXTmtniD8)   


" You're the Chesapeake Ripper."

Will stood in the threshold of Hannibal's home, shaking with anger. The first snow had started just hours before and the white flecks were speckled within his curls. He didn't want it to be true. Even though he knew, he _knew_ that it was true now, he was resisting it. His body wanted to go backwards, to start over. He _needed_ Hannibal now. Maybe that was why he hadn't gone to Jack first, why he felt comfortable confronting the murderer whose head he had lived inside for the last year. 

" Yes, Will. I am your Ripper," Hannibal murmured, coming behind the younger man to take his coat, hang it up. Will was angry that the man assumed he would stay here, furious that Lecter had the gall to say _yours_.

There was a hand on the small of his back, ushering him inside to the kitchen where Hannibal had prepared bourbon beef. Will was not convinced and made a noncommittal noise when a plate was offered to him. He didn't know what else to say to Hannibal.

" When you visited me last week, you knew that I was onto you. You planted the fish on purpose. You had arranged the nurse on purpose. You...you wanted me to know. Why, Hannibal? I'm going to turn you in, I have the Ripper, the man that Jack has been looking for after all these years. Hannibal, I can't understand why you would...why you would trick me," the last sentence came out more of a choked gasp, not what he had intended. Will wanted to be strong. He wanted to condemn their relationship, to call Jack and let him know that the case was finally closed. Hannibal pushed a glass of scotch towards him.

" You won't call Agent Crawford."

" Don't do that to me!" Will seethed, pushing his chair back with a scrape agains the floor. " Stop...stop making me feel what you want me to. You wanted me to feel this! You _made_ me feel these things for you, you think it'll protect you!" He was exasperated, hands thrown into the air as he shook his head. His eyes were wild, the bright blue glaring down at Hannibal, who sat and ate calmly. " You cared for me when I was weakest, you wanted me to trust you. You want to use me. You had to tell someone. It wasn't enough to just feed your victims to house guests anymore, was it? Was it, Dr. Lecter?"

When Will turned back to Hannibal with teeth bared, the man was standing next to where he tried to pace a hole into his floor. A hand came up to cup his jaw, lips leaned down. The profiler violently pushed Lecter away, taking steps back. " Don't touch me, Hannibal. I'm telling you to stop this time around."

The hickey that was on his shoulder pulsed against the flannel. Will felt something deep in his chest spasm in pain. This had never been what he wanted. 

He looked at Hannibal and deep inside his eyes, saw that the other man had felt the betrayal too. Lecter thought he would've accepted him anyways, that Will would stay around. He wasn't a plaything and that just made it much harder to turn his back and leave this behind. The more his thoughts raced, the more he realized the truth in Hannibal's words. He wouldn't call Jack. He couldn't.

How could he give this man to Jack? Jack had taken everything from him. His sanity, his dignity, his will to live for quite some time. Hannibal had given it back and then some. Where was the trade off? Put Hannibal behind bars and then go back to living in the skin of murderers for the sake of Jack Crawford, who never spared him a second thought? 

Will couldn't do that.

He realized it with a fit of madness and reached for the glass of scotch, downing it. He had no reason to be in this house any longer. He had needed to hear it from Hannibal. He had gotten the confession he came for.

" Don't call me."

\---  
When Will returned home, it was colder than normal. He watched the snow fall and preformed the physical therapy exercises he'd been given at his last appointment. The young man hated going to his sessions with the physical therapists, mostly because he had to drive all the way to Baltimore. Being in that city made his skin crawl, he could practically feel the reptilian gaze of Hannibal, his warmth breath on his neck. He would be angry for the entirety of the appointments and then leave to practice at the shooting range. 

On Tuesdays, he had dinner with Alana. Sometimes she would come to his place with her dog and the animals would frolick together as they cooked. His right hand was still shaky with lack of use, but Alana would help him with the things he struggled with.

" Hannibal always asks how you're doing, how the physical therapy is treating you," she said around a mouthful of chicken yakisoba. Will choked on a piece of bok choy, swallowing around the bolus to get it down his throat and sucking down water. " Did...oh, never mind."

" Did what, Alana?" Will tried not to sound angry but he couldn't help the tremor that his right hand took on. Thankfully, that could be disguised as muscle weakness. He didn't want to think about Hannibal, how the man had manipulated him. He tried not to think about lips grazing his neck, the suck mark that was long gone from his shoulder. When he thought about the weight of Hannibal's erection in his hand, he felt his anger fade. He hated how easy it was to quell his rage. 

" Oh, Will. You and Hannibal had been good friends before your accident...afterwards he was spending time over here and you had seemed so confident and comfortable. I just, I had thought maybe you finally had a true friend, maybe you even--" 

" Alana, don't," Will warned, angrily spearing a shred of chicken and eating it. 

" You two had a fight, didn't you? Will, Hannibal is a civil man. You should make up." Alana was so casual. To her, this was a spat between lovers, a quarrel amongst friends. She didn't know the deep, inlaid hurt that Will felt every time he had to look at those cases, every morning that he woke up with a tent in his pants. 

" I'll think about it, Alana, okay? Just, don't bring it up again. I need more time to think, to consider all that has happened." That much was the truth. In the last month, Will had been doing a lot of thinking. He thought about how he had come to Hannibal for the quiet of his mind, to be free from his empathy. In reality, he was living in Lecter's skin. He saw how those olive hands worked, how they deftly killed and made _art_.

On Fridays, he went to the range to shoot with Beverly after his physical therapy. Often enough, he was sore as hell from traction exercises. She would make jokes and help him with the recoil. Afterwards, they would go for drinks and sometimes Will would talk about his dating troubles. Beverly knew that it was a male and that they were going through some trouble. Will would whine about how he felt manipulated and used and Beverly would say he should get out of the relationship.

She didn't know how right she was.

\---  
 _When Will walked into his bedroom, Hannibal was lying on his bed, smiling at him. His torso was bare, propped up on his elbows. The monstrous smile was upon his face and his eyes screamed with a come hither. The older man's hair was half slicked back, coming loose with ashen locks straying into his eyes._

_" Come to bed, William. Lie with me."_

_Will couldn't stop his feet from moving forward, couldn't prevent his eyes from becoming dark with desire. He climbed onto the bed and moved on top of the larger man below him. Hannibal had always had a unique sense of beauty to him, all hard planes and corded muscles. He was a sculpture, a masterpiece._

_He didn't touch Hannibal like he had before. He refused to. But he needed to be near him, to take back what was stolen from him. Will flipped the other man onto his stomach. He couldn't look at him any more, couldn't take it anymore. Will looked down at his expansive back, the muscles rippling. He wanted to rip them apart beneath him, destroy this man._

_The young man's thin fingers went for Hannibal's ass instead, spreading the lightly tanned cheeks. He straddled his thighs, keeping him from spreading his legs too much. Will pushed one finger inside of him, lubricated with only spit. He didn't feel bad. Will wanted to be inside Hannibal now, to tear him apart. He wanted to ruin this horrible monster of a creature, like he had been ruined. A second finger joined his first, but he didn't take the effort to scissor and stretch him. Hannibal didn't deserve that, didn't deserve the tenderness Will had once offered him._

_When he pulled his fingers from the older man, there was a groan. Will didn't care what Hannibal felt. Or at least, he tried not to care. Beyond his dark eyes, he wanted Hannibal to enjoy this, to love this, to feel every inch of him and_ want _this. It had been so long since that had happened to Will. And Hannibal had stolen his chances for it. He was just so angry._

_He thrust inside Hannibal, and the tight heat spasmed around his hard length. The older man humped the bed and threw his head back with an animalistic cry._

_" Will!"_

Waking with a start, the profiler felt the spurt of cum on his shirt covered stomach. It had been years since he'd last done that. He looked down at the mess he'd made and felt cold guilt in his stomach. No matter how many times he felt that he'd cleansed himself of Hannibal's touch through venting to Beverly, it was never enough. He knew that he could never get rid of Hannibal, he'd gotten in too deep. 

He'd spent way too long in Hannibal's head. He'd spent too long getting comfortable with the other man, allowing that warm and fuzzy feeling inside of him to grow.

When he didn't wake up to the sound of Hannibal calling his name, he was often calling the name of his psychiatrist, wishing for the comfort of those large arms around his waist.

Will didn't eat much any more, despite the massive amount of fish that he now caught due to his lack of sleep. He couldn't rest for long without the other man pushing into his thoughts. Feeling out of control was the worst thing that could ever be wished upon Will and Hannibal gave that to him every evening. 

Most of the time, Will found his eyes red after showering. He could never tell if it was from the lack of sleep, or from crying.

\---  
" Doctor Lecter," Will mumbled, passing through his door.

This was all Jack's fault. He had noticed Will's sleep deprivation and lack of enthusiasm for their old files. No new murders had been committed. A small part of Will's brain screamed with joy at this thought, counted the days since the last crime scene. Was this for him?

Jack had demanded to know when Will had last seen the psychiatrist that had been provided to him by the FBI. They both knew that Will's relationship with Hannibal was unusual, but Jack insisted on the efficacy of the treatment he had received prior to his accident. 

" Something happened to you when they took that cast off, Graham. I need you to see Lecter again and I need you to figure out what is going on in that brain of yours." 

Now he found himself in the office of Hannibal Lecter. The office of a serial killer who happened to hold a lot of power over many vulnerable patients, Will realized with no short of terror. He wondered how many others had been manipulated like he had.

" I'm glad to see you here again, William. I have always kept your slot open, in case you feel like you need it. " Will's heart withered at the formality, but he kept his face as solid as stone.

" Jack wanted me to see you about my night terrors. They're getting worse again, but I'm still on the anti-inflammatories. If you could just prescribe me something to sleep, that'd be great." He refused to look into the pools of maroon that he knew were directed this way. He wouldn't sit, couldn't allow Hannibal the satisfaction of knowing Will was still so comfortable around him. Will still wanted nothing but to fall into his arms. 

" Of course, dear Will. Anything for you."

Hannibal handed Will a prescription for Ambien with clinical efficiency. 

Will did not stay for any more than his script, filling it at the local pharmacy. He went home that night and for the first time in the last month, Will Graham _slept_.

\---  
Hannibal waited three hours before heading out to Wolf Trap. He knew that the young man would waste no time in getting some dream-free sleep. In the mean time, he prepared soup to leave at his house after the visit he was preparing.

It wasn't about the manipulation, not this time. Hannibal was not a needy lover. When Will had put the pieces together, he did not call him unless it was prompted. Did not text him. Hannibal knew that it was not his place to interfere any longer. His design would unfold without further prodding. However, his resolve was fading. He could not stay away.

When Will had touched him, had given himself to Hannibal. He had become vulnerable. It was so hard for Hannibal to not desire Will. The young man was beautiful and had such dark potential. 

More than that, he had shown genuine care for Hannibal. The doctor did not want to acknowledge how much it mattered to him but it did. 

" Oh, Will." He murmured as he looked down at the rise and fall of the young man's chest. He had pulled the blankets tight around him in the cold of December.

Hannibal moved to his knees and kissed Will on the forehead, leaning in to smell his neck. The profiler was still using the cologne that he had given to him. " You will always be mine."


	10. Biting Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal misses Will. Will goes down the rabbit hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is really weak and I'm super sorry.
> 
> Coming additions will be slower because of work and health issues. Sorry in advance :/

  
_"It feels better biting down_   
_Skip a hit, don't make a sound_   
_Breathed so deep, I thought I'd drown"_   
[\--Biting Down, Lorde](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtF7l5rqsxM)   


Once inside of Will's house, Hannibal didn't know how to leave. He found himself lost, an unusual feeling that settled in his spine. He placed the thermos of soup on the profiler's counter-top and then looked at the mess that lingered in the open cupboard.

Hannibal had subtly organized Will's pantry and cupboard during the time that he spent cooking in Virginia. He hadn't meant to do it, it just happened. Will had allowed him to alter his living space, had let him in. After being shut out, Lecter had felt the woods closing in on him, the cold moving through his bones. An ache had resonated through his humerus, something old and left in a foreign country. 

Will had pulled him in too deep, had lured him in unintentionally. While Hannibal was trying to manipulate him, the younger man had been subtly chipping at the walls of his fortress. He was bending Will's views, but his own were changing.

Before he knew it, Hannibal found himself longing after Will. He felt the stirrings of guilt in his abdomen when he thought about killing again. For this beautiful man, he had held off for over a month. Just as Will counted the days, Hannibal did as well. It had been forty-two days since his last piece of art. 

He could wait forever if it meant that he would have a masterpiece. Hannibal had always been a patient man.

As he organized Will's pantry, the dogs nosed at him for food. He found the fancy dog treats that Alana had gifted to the young man and tried to win over the canines' favor. They were lowly creatures, it wasn't hard.

Hours later when he heard the creak of floorboards, he wasn't sure whether to run or stay. For the first time in years, Hannibal felt like a deer in the headlights. Adrenalin rushed through his veins; it was fight or flight. 

"Hannibal?"

The voice sounded so broken. Raw from sleep and crying. He could smell the salt of tears on Will's face, the sweet scent of spent arousal on his hand. Hannibal could draw easy conclusions from the evidence being given to him, but he wished not to hurt Will. Unlike their past sessions, he did not take delight in seeing the man lost and confused. It seemed like Will was convinced that he was hallucinating.

The young man took one, two steps towards Hannibal. He closed his eyes and Hannibal watched his foot tap: _one, two, three, four, five_. The doctor knew that his voice would always be in the back of Will's head. The profiler had spent too much time empathizing with him, his imagination had run wild inside of the recesses of Hannibal's mind. He could tell that the other man could feel the darkness growing inside of him. Hannibal knew how scared he was. He knew fear better than anyone.

When Will looked at him again, he seemed relieved. It appeared to be that the young man had receded farther into his mind, had denied the reality of Hannibal standing in his kitchen. Will sat on the chair backwards, his chin lying against the back of the wood. " I just don't know what to do, Hannibal," he whispered, full bottom lip quivering and jutting out at Hannibal. He was clearly distraught, having gotten lost on that path to his true self again. " I can't tell Jack. I just can't. You mean too much to me now. I hate it, I want to at least. I want to hate you. But I know you, I think I know you more than anyone. You let me see you that night. When you let me in, I realized who I was in bed with. Why am I okay with that?

" I wish you would throw some of your awful psychoanalysis bullshit at me now, Dr. Lecter," he laughed in a self deprecating manner. 

" Oh, Will," Hannibal sighed. As much as he had loved to use Will's hallucinations against him in the past, he couldn't stand the pathetic sight of the man in front of him. He knew Will was stronger than the shell of a man that sat in front of him. It was Hannibal's job to fill him back up, to help Will find his pieces again. 

He knelt before him and took each hand. As the eyes went wide, the sense of guilt grew in his stomach. He realized with a start that it was now guilt, no longer shame.

Guilt is what one feels for what they _have done_. Shame is felt for what one _is_. Hannibal would no longer be the manipulative monster that he had been. Not to Will. The trickery against the young agent did not align with his moral code, not any more. 

" Will, I need you just as you need me, if that makes you feel any better."

With fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, Will shook his head. " No, it doesn't. You're still a serial killer. I'm an FBI agent who is in...who has feelings for a serial killer, the serial killer that I've been trained to hunt for over a year. You...you fed me _people_ , Hannibal. And I can't even be angry at you!" Will got up and began to pace. He was always so restless when angry. 

" The FBI has been harming your health in the years that they've employed you. They've asked too much of you, William. I offered you comfort when they pushed you too the brink. I gave you a safe place. It is very logical that you would turn to me still, in your time of conflict." 

" Only because you've played all the right moves. My emotions were just pawns in your chess game, Hannibal. I can't...I can't forgive that."

" But you can forgive my other crimes?" Normally, Hannibal would've kept the thoughts to himself, use them as leverage in a later conversation. But he was desperate to know that he could count on Will still being around, that he would stay. Hannibal felt like he was losing the grasp of his dainty hand and the other man was tugging hard to get a way. He had to find a better grip.

" You said I wasn't one of your experiments and then you used my loyalty to you in order to have a confidante," Will complained, skirting around the question. The creases around Hannibal's eyes wrinkled with a smile. " I mean it, what I said before. I want to hate you so badly, but in the night I dream of you. I dream of touching you and it makes me sick. And I know you're not being insincere now, I can _feel_ it on you. It just makes it that much harder."

" You have to re-evaluate your code of ethics, William. You need to figure out what means more to you, whose respect you need. Is it Jack or I?" Hannibal was normally not so low as ultimatums. He didn't want Will to get away this time. In his original design, he would be fine with allowing the other man to wallow in self pity and anger until he had soaked up enough resentment to kill. Once again, it had changed.

In the end, Hannibal knew that Will would kill for him. With his ever-changing plans, it might take more time. Nevertheless, it would happen.

Breaking out of his reverie, Hannibal looked up at Will again. He looked like the young man burning with encephalitis, seeing antlers sprout from his psychiatrist's heads, lost inside of that same man's murders.

" Hannibal..." Will's eyes got dark. He was looking down at Hannibal from his place on the chair. A pale hand reached out and touched the hard, angular jaw. " I just... I need more time. I need time to think."

" When you spend too much time on a decision, you over think and second-guess yourself. You should know that this is a habit of yours, Will," Hannibal murmured, leaning into the touch. Even though he did not easily succumb to carnal instincts, Will had stirred in him the need for warmth and comfort. For affection. Just as the young man wanted to hate himself, Hannibal felt the urge as well. He did not know when he'd gotten so soft. 

" What hole in you did I fill?" The question was innocent enough, but Hannibal felt his blood run cold. One day, Will would know all of his secrets. Today was not that day. He stood and grasped the young man's face with bruising force, bringing their lips together. Lecter wanted Will to feel the ache he did, to feel the desire for partnership.

His hand grasped at Will's sleep shirt, smelling thick of semen and sweat. He pulled the younger man up and pushed the chair away, closing the space between them. It was easier to be physical with Will, it was easier to fall into primal need, just as with his hunting. 

Hannibal ran a hand through sweat-soaked locks, lightly tugging them as his fingers played down the prominent vertebrae. Will never ate enough. He reached the swell of his ass and squeezed _hard_ , his mouth devouring the one that opened up so pliantly to him. The shoulders that had begun to tense fell relaxed against him and there was a slight roll of hips. Will's self control had failed. Hannibal didn't think he'd feel so victorious. The prize was worth it.

He gripped his left hip, noting the way the other man still limped on his previously crushed foot. Hannibal could be his crutch until he found his way. Will was allowing the assault to his mouth and his hands came up to imbed themselves in slicked back hair, pulling the strands loose. One hand drifted to the shoulder of his blue buttoned down and gripped tight. When he tasted tears in the kiss, Hannibal pulled away. 

" I can't hate you, Hannibal, I just can't," the man gasped onto his chest, a sob being wrenched from his lips. " God, I'm just as much of a monster as you are."

_Oh, dear Will._

\---  
Hannibal realized within the next hour that he would be staying the night. He hadn't planned on it. The visit was meant to be no more than twenty minutes. Once again, Will Graham was dismantling his schedule. The young man offered him a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a t- shirt to sleep in. The shirt was too tight, the bottoms a bit short. By the way Will kept looking at his back, he was sure the other man was enjoying the display of his body beneath the thin cotton. Hannibal was used to being ogled by the elderly women at the opera, single mothers at the market. With Will, he actually felt the need to show off, pulling his muscles taut as he reheated the soup in a pot.

" Who is this?" Will whispered, before he took the first bite. It was spoken like a prayer through the steam of broth. Hannibal had claimed for it to be chicken noodle soup.

" The nurse." 

Hannibal didn't explain himself further and Will didn't ask. He took a bite. 

They had fallen back into the familiar routine that was once had after Will's accident. They walked about the grounds, going to the river with the pack of dogs at their heels. Hannibal's hand rested possessively upon the small of Will's back. The more he indulged in physical contact with the young man, the more he wanted. 

When they slept, Hannibal wrapped himself possessively around Will. His mind was racing, his plan was backfiring. If he would've left the profiler alone, the other man would have surely found himself crawling back to Hannibal. The doctor would still hold all the power in the relationship, he would be in control. Now, situations with Will were an anomaly where Hannibal wasn't calculating, wasn't ten steps ahead of everyone else. He was falling behind, unsure of where to go next.

He had to regain his composure.

\---  
Alana had told Will not to come to this scene. Jack had demanded otherwise. He wished that he could call Hannibal, could beg him for answers. What would he be walking into? Would this be another murder by the arms he'd slept in just two nights before? Hands that he'd reluctantly let go of? 

He stalked up the hill, at the top was a lone oak. It was barren and branches laden heavy with last night's snowfall.

Will really hadn't been prepared for this one.

There was Abigail, her throat re-opened. Besides the long, gaping gash, there was one other wound. The murderer had gouged a hole in her chest, cylindrical in shape. Bone had been removed, along with muscle, sinew, and her heart. Inside was a picture of his own face, taken from a picture of the two of them together. He had the same photograph sitting on his desk. 

He hadn't seen her in months. Alana said to wait until all of his injuries had healed, she was giving her updates. Seeing him so broken might upset her. 

He and Hannibal were supposed to be her father figures. Supposed to set this right.

But there he was, transplanted into the hole where her heart used to be. 

Will hated that his thoughts turned to Hannibal, to his question a few days ago. Hannibal had done this to Abigail. Who had done this to Hannibal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm awful for killing Abigail. I tried to see how I could use her in the plot at the beginning, but it never felt like she fit into what I was writing. So...she's dead. :( 
> 
> I also totally hate NBC's use of women as a means to only elicit emotion from male characters instead of giving them strong actions and the ability to take care of themselves (besides Freddie so far). So I don't condone that at all, it regularly pisses me off. However...it's exactly what I'm doing here. Ugh conflict. I feel what Hannibal feels.


	11. When You Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will confronts Hannibal in order to analyze his motives and take the reins in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super excited to have TayoAnn as my beta now! Any remaining mistakes are mine alone. 
> 
> Enjoy the porn, hopefully this will explain anything from the last chapter.

  
_"So tell me another beautiful lie_   
_Tell me everything I want to hear_   
_Won't you lay here by my side?_   
_I want to fuck away all my fear"_   
[\--When You Break, Bear's Den ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhX1AZCo2Sg)   


When Will returned home, the moon was high in the sky. In Wolf Trap, the stars were alight like they hadn't been in Maryland. He didn't want to confront Hannibal, not this time. Not after he had fallen back into his arms so easily last time. Will knew that Hannibal could manipulate him. He knew that this had been his work, even though others had been quick to call it the Copycat. After all of the Copycat's previous victims, it would be understandable that Abigail would be next in line. Will could see Jack's line of thinking.

Nobody had asked if Will would look harder, if he would make any speculations. He was glad. He didn't know what he would've said as the anger built inside of his body. Would he have blamed Hannibal? No, probably not outright. However, there were incriminating things that could have spewed forth from his tight-lipped mouth.

He was completely unsurprised to see Hannibal's car in his drive. At this point, he had felt all he could for the day. Anguish and grief had been ripped out of him, had left him hollow. Was Hannibal trying to create a hole in him as well? The doctor was certainly doing a great job of it.

He noticed the other man had calmed his dogs. They did not bark as he opened the door. Will knew that he would find Hannibal in the kitchen. He was always there.

" Will, are you hungry?" The call came from his kitchen. The other man was slicing a heart. He was slicing Abigail's heart on a bamboo cutting board that had been transplanted onto his countertop. He felt something drop out of his chest and then there was nothing. Before, he could have felt the rage and the anger, could have been furious with the man standing in his kitchen. As he watched thin slices of meat fall atop each other on the cutting board, he didn't feel anything. He wanted to be angry with Hannibal but he couldn't. There was a dull throb where he used to feel something passionate. It had faded minutes after he crossed through the door.

" Sure, Hannibal."

He could not deny the doctor. Abigail would be fed to him at some point, hidden in some dish. Even as he watched the slices of meat being placed into a pan, he couldn't believe that Abigail was dead. He had seen her body. He watched her heart turn into his dinner and he felt nothing but an ache deep inside of him.

" Abigail knew too much, William," Hannibal murmured as he thoughtfully stirred the meat with a wooden spoon. " She was young and reckless, not improving. Alana believed that Abigail was showing much progress but I know that she simply planned to go out and kill again. She and I spent more time together after your accident. Not only would Abigail end up revealing herself, but myself as well."

" Would you have killed me, if it seemed that I was going to turn you in?"

" I know you, Will. I have spent quite some time studying you, just as you have done with me."

Hannibal had killed Abigail to save his own skin. He had killed Abigail to make Will feel empty. Now that he had gotten his way, Will didn't know what Hannibal would do. He couldn't empathize with this man, couldn't wrap his head around why this act had been necessary in his current state of mind.

Will sat on his preferred chair and watched as the olive-toned hand set a plate before him. The food was artfully arranged with fruit and garnish, a reduction streaked about the left side. There was a centerpiece that the man had placed on his old wooden dining table, the flowers matched petals that accented the meal before him. This was Hannibal's way of mourning their daughter. His placement of her corpse had not been art. Will had known that. It was a message.

This dinner was art. It was a sacrifice, necessary if they wished to have a future together.

" I don't want you to kill anyone else." Will took a bite of the meat, wanting to placate the monster that lurked beneath Hannibal's skin. " I don't want to walk in on your murders anymore. I _can't_ , Hannibal. I just can't be in your head. I don't want to be in your head, not if we're going to be doing...this." Once again, he waved his hand at the word. Will did not know what 'this' was.

Hannibal looked at him, paused with knife and fork raised. He placed his forkful of food back on the plate and contemplated the proposal. Will couldn't read him.

He considered again the idea of Abigail as a sacrifice. Hannibal admitted that she had killed before and implied further murderous intent. Will didn't know whether to believe the older man or not. Hannibal was not above lying, not above manipulating. However, Will felt like he was an exception to these behaviors. He had done something to the doctor, had changed him. Honestly, Will felt proud of himself. He had weaseled his way into the doctor's small, shriveled heart. Now, Hannibal was working hard to protect the possibility of their future.

" I will do what I can to make this work for you." The food finally made its way to Hannibal's mouth and he chewed thoughtfully.

" I need a definite answer, Hannibal. I can't keep wondering what you're going to do next. I don't want you to murder, I don't want to eat people. This is our last supper," he growled at the other man. Hannibal raised his chin up to meet his challenge and took a sip of wine.

" I will inform you of all my plans, Will."

" I'm serious! You do not control me, Hannibal. You don't pull my strings any longer, I'm not letting you." Will stood, leaving his plate half eaten.

Hannibal looked curiously up at him but did not put down his fork and knife. He continued eat as Will put away dishes and cleaned the blood from the cutting board. It was snowing outside, the drifts having piled up around their tires. Once again, Hannibal would be staying the night. Making matters worse, it was Friday. That meant that the doctor had no patients waiting in Baltimore the following morning. He would linger in the morning, encouraging Will to depend on Hannibal to patch him back up again when the reality of their situation set in.

Will struggled with his options. He wanted to hurt Hannibal. On the other hand, he didn't know where he would go if he'd hurt Hannibal. He couldn't let the FBI know about him without being murdered. Even if he wasn't killed, they would wonder why he had waited to speak up. Turning Hannibal in just was not an option. Will also had no idea how to hurt the man.

" I deserve to know what happened to you, Hannibal. You took Abigail away from me, to turn me into the type of monster that you are. Who was taken from you? Who did this to you, made you who you are?"  
\---

At Hannibal's behest, they moved to the living room. Will started a fire and curled up, wrapped in a blanket as he sipped a glass of whiskey. The doctor settled for refilling his wine. He stayed on the far right side of the couch, Winston creating a barrier between the two men as he settled into Will's side.

" When I was very young, my family was taken from me," the man started, taking a sip of wine. He considered the taste and began again. " My parents died in a plane accident. My sister and I struggled as the cold set in. We were alone in the _Druskininkai–Varėna_ , and starving. When the _Hiwi_ came for us, I was too weak. I could not defend myself, let alone both of us. Mischa was very young, could barely say my name. They murdered her and broke my arm. They ate her."

Will realized what Hannibal wouldn't say. He, too, had eaten Mischa.

" You were starving, Hannibal. There was nothing you could do to save her, you were only a child."

" There was nothing that you could have done to save Abigail, either." When Hannibal spoke the words, they sounded like acceptance. He was agreeing with Will, barely acknowledging what he had said. The older man clearly didn't wish to speak about it any longer.

Will felt the cold seep into his bones. The sympathy pain radiated in his lower left humerus, the pain of bone knitting itself together. He could feel the churn of Abigail’s flesh in his gut, sickness causing him to gag. He swallowed down acid and felt the fury from earlier in the morning reignite itself. 

Will recognized lust unfurling within the warmth that his anger had caused. A positive feedback loop began within his body, anger and lust fueling one another. He hated himself for wanting to fuck Hannibal in that moment, but the desire was beyond helping. Whiskey courage was propelling him towards the other man’s body. Their lips connected hastily and fruit mixed with spice. Winston leapt from the couch as Will slammed his groin into Hannibal’s. Will probed his tongue inside of the older man’s mouth, tasting the wine anew. 

He had felt the urgency in the murder of Abigail. It was clear that Hannibal was trying to get a reaction out of him. He had been seeking control in his life. Will was well aware of how long the other man had waited to kill again. 

On this night, Will was taking his control back. 

Hannibal’s slate dress shirt was unbuttoned and thoroughly wrinkled by the time Will pulled him up by the tie that hung limply around his neck, freed from his collar. They kissed heatedly and the young man marched him up the stairs to the bedroom. Will made quick work of Hannibal’s belt and slacks, kicking both of their shoes away once freed. Soon they were both standing in their underwear, the chill of winter curling around their calves and driving their bodies close together with the promise of warmth. 

Will palmed the older man’s arousal, watching with interest as the expensive silk boxer-briefs were stained dark with pre-cum. He freed the straining erection and gave it a few pumps before stepping back from Hannibal. He placed both hands on the broad chest and pushed him back, back, until Hannibal's knees hit the mattress and he fell. Will was quick to climb atop of him, pressing kisses to his brow, lips, neck, and clavicles. He dipped his tongue into the hollows, ran his fingers over the toned pectoral muscles, reaching out to his biceps. Hannibal was the epitome of strength. Will would conquer him.

Having shimmied out of his own boxers, Will reached to the drawer of the bedside table and removed a small cylinder of lube. This was not his recurring dream, he would not cause Hannibal undue pain. It was enough to know that he was the one in control of the situation. Or, at least, he had the illusion of control. 

The look Hannibal gave him when he instructed the larger man to roll over was enough to confirm the power transfer that was occurring in his bedroom. He was not distraught or displeased, simply surprised. Hannibal had probably expected him to be more broken, in need of care after Abigail’s death.

The glint in eye was that of pride. Hannibal was proud of him for taking the initiative, taking what was his.

Will tapped the other’s hips until they were lifted, the placed a pillow beneath them to grant his next movements leverage. He spread the sculpted mounds of Hannibal’s ass and deja vu washed over him. The profiler circled the rim of Hannibal's puckered entrance, paying attention to every twitch of muscle in his buttocks and his upper thighs. It was interesting to watch his former psychiatrist relinquish control. He pressed one slick finger in, waiting until he heard a groan before adding another. With two, he found the bump of Hannibal’s prostate and gently circled the sensitive nerves. The gasping and humping earned the older man a third finger. When it seemed that the muscles were relaxed enough, Will pulled free. He was pleased when the hips moved back, the hole gaped at empty air. 

Will only allowed Hannibal’s ass a moment's reprieve in order to properly lube his throbbing member. It had been quite the sight to watch the man take his fingers. The way his hole had grabbed at them, clenching and unclenching, the rutting of his hips--it was nearly enough to make Will cum. He was strong enough to hold out, though, and he sunk the head of his cock into the warm, waiting heat. 

_”Will!”_

True to Will's fantasy, the doctor called his name as Will inched himself inside. It was exhilarating for Will to demonstrate his control, reversing the role of puppet master. Hannibal did not have any options here. Will’s hands kept his hips in place, the pillow kept his erection from being touched. The profiler made every decision about Hannibal’s pleasure.

When he bottomed out, Will looked down at the form below him. The older man’s tanned skin was shimmering with sweat, his muscles contracting. Hannibal’s neck craned around so that they could make rare eye contact--sanguine met stormy grey. 

“ Will, _please_ ,” he begged, accent thick. This was better than Will could have dreamed. He was going to take advantage of this situation.

The young man rolled his hips, tantalizingly slow. It only moved him an inch to and fro inside the vice-grip Hannibal’s ass had around him. “ Please _what_ , Hannibal? What do you want from me?”

When Hannibal made a strangled noise, Will wasn’t sure if it was from the humiliation he was imposing upon him or from the teasing of his hips. “ Fuck me, Will. Fucking fuck me!” Will was sure that those strings of curses were due to the man’s never-ending supply of politeness in daily conversation. He had to keep it pent up somewhere. 

Hannibal pushed his hips back, but Will held firm, fingers tight to the point of bruising the flesh of his ass, the thin skin on his sides. That thought made him happy--he would litter Hannibal’s skin with marks of possession, create his own art upon his neck and shoulders.

Content with the pleading coming from the man below him, Will pulled back and thrust back into the hilt. Hannibal was blubbering in Lithuanian now. Will could hear his name and discern various explicatives, but the rest was lost to him. In the spreading fog of pleasure, he couldn’t be bothered. The sound of the other man’s voice was enough to placate him, the slap of skin against skin resounding in the background. He felt a growl rise in his throat and set to marking the exposed skin of Hannibal’s shoulders and the lower end of his neck. He pulled at the ashen hair, bringing their lips together. 

While Will liked to think of himself as held together at this point, but he couldn’t help how long it had been since he’d had intercourse. As he slammed into Hannibal’s ass, claiming flesh with teeth, tongue, and fingers, his hips were beginning to stutter. The heat was growing, growing, and he hiked Hannibal’s body up so that his right hand could grip the profusely leaking erection of his lover. Will brought his mouth to Hannibal’s ear, nibbling at it.

“ You’re going to cum for me, Hannibal. You’re going to cum before me because I know how badly you need me inside of you, right? You need me,” he rumbled into his lobe, nosing at his throat. 

Apparently, Hannibal hadn’t been in this situation in quite some time either. Now that his hips were free, the man was grinding back and taking as much as he was given. He whimpered against the sheets and Will could feel the new warmth of the man’s semen spreading between his fingers. “ Yes, fuck, Will, fuck, yes,” Hannibal chanted, muscles drawn taut.

With the spasming ring of muscles, growing heat, and the sound of his name being called, Will didn’t last much longer. His hips gave a false start and it felt like someone punched the orgasm out of him. The brunet had no breath to gasp Hannibal’s name, the utterance lost to the wind. He came deep within the spent body below him and slumped atop it.

When Will found the strength to move again, he was drained emotionally. The strength he felt had ebbed away with the remnants of his orgasm. He staggered off the bed, moving to the bathroom to wipe himself down and bring an additional towel up for Hannibal. Upon returning, Will couldn’t help his smile. The ever-composed doctor had fallen asleep where he’d been fucked into the mattress, his ass still raised high with spunk leaking down his thighs. A twinge of pride moved through Will at the sight. He wiped him clean with the utmost care, tossing the coated pillow to the floor.

While he no longer feared the man before him, he couldn’t deny his hesitance in their future. Abigail’s funeral would be held within the week. He would have to confront Hannibal again but the possibility of being psychoanalyzed no longer petrified Will as it had previously.

He couldn’t deny the rush he’d felt when overpowering this man for hurting him deeply. 

It was impossible to ignore his joy at the sight of art that _Will_ had created blooming across olive skin. 

Will didn’t take his Ambien; sleep came easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always use protection! Barebacking is hot, but dangerous. Pregnancy, STIs, and HIV/AIDs are all very real, despite their lack of appearance in these lovely fictitious universe.


	12. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal grieve, Freddie gets into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not have happened without my beta, TayoAnn. For reals.

  
_“Something always brings me back to you._   
_It never takes too long._   
_No matter what I say or do_   
_I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.”_   
\--Gravity, Sara Bareilles   


The sun peeked through the gauzy fabric of Will’s curtains, laying a strip of light across his face. He woke to the bright spots outside the comforting darkness of his lids. Will sat up slowly, eyes still shut against the daylight. He rubbed his face and finally looked at the day. Instinctively, he glanced towards where Hannibal lay the night before, terrified that it’d been another one of his dreams.

Well, Hannibal wasn’t lying there now, but that was to be expected. The other man almost always rose before the sun and Will just didn’t have that sort of commitment to breakfast. He padded down the stairs, a pair of flannel pants hugging his hips. If it hadn’t been the middle of December, he would’ve gone down naked. Despite the anger and resentment that he still felt for Hannibal’s actions, he couldn’t deny that the sex had helped him gain some perspective on their situation. 

The smell of coffee permeated his sleep-fogged brain. Will went for the kitchen, smiling at the cup that was handed to him, teaspoon of sugar stirred in. Hannibal was cooking a protein scramble in a large skillet. Will wondered whether this meal contained Abigail as well, but did not want to ask. He moved behind Hannibal, looping one arm around the man’s waist while the profiler sipped at his coffee. Will enjoyed the feeling of the defined trapezius flexing beneath his cheek. He reveled in the way that he could feel Hannibal glance over his shoulder at the shorter man, who restricted his movements. 

“ Would you like some fruit with your protein scramble, Will?” Hannibal’s voice was still husky from sleep. He hadn’t been up for long.

“ Yeah, let me cut some up for us.” 

Each finished his preparations in turn and Hannibal plated the breakfast. They sat and drank from mugs of coffee, Will picked at his breakfast while the other man ate more enthusiastically. 

“ I don’t expect you to stop killing for me.” Will eventually broke the silence, referring to his demands made the previous evening. “ I am still so...so angry about Abigail. She shouldn’t have died, Hannibal. You could’ve convinced her not to tell, to help us, to be a part of our family.” The last word came strangled from his lips. Tears sprang forth from his eyes at the thought of the three of them together. Will would have ignored that Hannibal was a serial killer, Abigail would have been healed, and they could have been a family. 

Hannibal reached across the table to wipe the salty liquid from Will’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb, the remaining tears clinging to the young man’s eyelashes. The thumb was licked clean. Will felt betrayal in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he and Hannibal would still end up together, no matter the crime. He could feel it. The other man always got what he wanted, and he wanted Will.

“ I am sorry that I took her from you, Will.” Hannibal didn’t apologize for hurting him. He didn’t apologize for killing Abigail. “ Last night, you alleged that I was trying to turn you into the monster that I am. I won’t deny my plans for you.”

It was a shock that Hannibal was being so open and honest with him now, but Will noted that he seemed to have been exempt from Hannibal’s habitual deceit earlier in the week, too. “ Why, Hannibal? Why would you think that I would be so willing to join you? I’ve spent years hunting people like you, bringing justice to the families of victims. Why would I want to switch teams so suddenly? You didn’t think that your cooking and sexual favors would turn me, did you?” The last question was posed with a half-smirk. 

“ You’re the only person who is capable of loving me, I feel.” The words flowed freely from the older man’s lips. He took another mouthful of his meal and contemplated the curls that were messily laid across Will’s forehead. “ You understand _why_ these killers do what they do, Will. You can discover their motives. You are the only one in the BAU who calls my work art. You have lived in my mind. You are capable.” 

Hannibal’s words were so certain, so decided. Will took in a sharp breath and shook his head, looking down at his plate. He’d pushed the food around long enough and decided to take a bite. Hannibal was always right. Will had noticed the care put into the Ripper’s work from the very beginning, nearly admired the attention to detail in his corpses. In recent months, words like _art, muse,_ and _vision_ had slipped from his lips, causing some of the agents to turn their heads. Jack had let it slide. Being in a killer’s head was taxing.

“ You were hoping that I would realize it while still deranged with the encephalitis,” Will realized aloud. He frowned and returned his gaze up to Hannibal. “ With my illness, it would have been easier to exploit me. But then you had feelings for me. So killing Abigail was the only way you saw to get me angry, for me to realize my potential.”

“ Very good, William.”

Hannibal stood and graced Will's lips with a soft kiss. Hannibal began to do the dishes, scrubbing each piece with care. Will scraped the majority of the scramble into the trash. He had eaten his fill of Abigail, had honored her enough. There would be no more. 

\---  
Abigail’s funeral was a quiet affair. Will knew that Hannibal had paid for it, seen to the careful placement of flowers and her favorite purple scarf wrapped protectively around the butchered neck. She was beautiful in death, quite peaceful with the hole in her chest filled. The irony was not lost on Will, that her heart had been replaced. Just as his had; as Hannibal’s had. 

A small prayer was said and the casket was lowered. Hannibal, Will, and Alana were the only ones she really had left. Some members of the forensics team stood nearby, heads bowed respectfully. Will clutched Hannibal’s hand out of habit, blinking tears from his eyes as his glasses misted. The small movement would go unnoticed by everyone, even though Will was no longer shying away from their relationship like a horse afraid of the bit. 

“ Hey, lover-boy!” 

Will’s head snapped back at the words, just in time to see the flash. There was Freddie Lounds, a sadistic grin on her face. She _would_ be the one to ruin this for Will, to take away his chance for closure. His eyes flashed dark with promise, glancing up at Hannibal. Will’s hand had been quick to go limp, back to his side. Alana gave him a confused look, but he shook his head. Not now, not as Abigail’s casket was settled in her grave. 

He threw a rose into the hole that had consumed his hope for a family and turned away. That article would _not_ be published. 

\---

Will left the scene quickly. He couldn’t lose Freddie, needed to be on her heels. Hannibal texted him within ten minutes, concerned about his speedy departure.

_Are you all right? Let me know if you would like to return to my home. I will make dinner. -H_

He wasn’t sure if he would be home in time for dinner tonight, wasn’t sure what Freddie had planned. But he intended to find out. 

Will stayed two cars behind Freddie, kept his distance. She made no moves to indicate that she was aware of her stalker. Apparently, as it turned out, Freddie hadn’t visited the park where Abigail’s corpse had been arranged for Will to find. She stopped there to take more photographs. Rain came down and she retreated into her rental car. 

The next stop was in a rougher part of the city. Freddie’s car weaved in and out of alleyways and Will was careful to stay far enough behind. When she stopped at a slightly dilapidated apartment complex, he was prepared to go in and take the memory card from her. There was no way that he was going to let Freddie put those pictures up on the internet. 

Instead, three hispanic men came out to meet her. They appeared quite forlorn, glancing to one another and speaking in rapid Spanish. Freddie was clearly angry with them, but Will was too far away to get a read on what the conversation was about. His Spanish was rusty.

The three men retreated into the apartment building, but only two came back out. They each had a pair of gloves and a shovel that they loaded into the back of the rental car. 

He followed Freddie into the cemetery once more. Will would have thought that she was going to take some pictures of the grave where Abigail lay, possibly her headstone. But with the workers, he was convinced that her intentions were much more sinister. He would confront her here. Will parked his car in the next lot over, walking briskly in the setting sun. His hands were stuffed in his pockets when he came up the hill, watching the rays of orange and pink tint her face as freshly turned dirt was shoveled back into the pile that had lain beside the grave hours ago. She was going to exhume the body. 

Will ducked beneath a headstone, unnoticed against the sound of the shovels. He turned on his phone, recording video. He took a few stills of what was clearly Freddie’s face, watching the two men dig the grave. There was clear audio of her threatening the men in broken Spanish. They were illegal immigrants. It took them over two hours to get the job done. When metal hit wood, Will saw Freddie clamber into the hole that had been made. His blood ran hot and fury came over him. Hannibal may have killed Abigail, but he had done it to protect the two of them. Freddie was not only going to expose their relationship, but desecrate the body of the beautiful girl who had been stolen from life too soon. 

Phone in one hand, he peered over the edge of the hole. The two men were leaning against the wall of dirt, clearly exhausted and apprehensive about the next step of this operation. Freddie had taken one of their shovels and was about to break through the casket.

He turned the video off and drew his gun, leveling it at her arm that held the shovel. “ Put the shovel down, Freddie.”

She looked up with her wide eyes, startled. The shovel dropped to the wood. “ Mr. Graham… How nice to see you again so soon. The service was lovely.”

Her lips were starting to tremble in cold and exhaustion, and she looked around in jerky movements. The brightly colored purse was under Will’s foot, gun and pepper spray secure. “ I have footage of you desecrating the grave of recently dead Abigail Hobbs, which is definitely a felony. I would like the memory card to your camera. I’ve been following you since you took that picture of Hannibal and I. You haven’t synced it anywhere, so don’t feed me your bullshit. If I see you posting an article on our relationship, I will have you arrested and tried.”

“ So you admit that the two of you are in a relationship?” The words slipped quickly from her lips, a smile curling on them. “ That’s quite unethical for a doctor to pursue a patient.”

“ I was never technically--you know what, I don’t have to keep face for you, Freddie. I’ll just be taking this,” he popped open the battery compartment on the DSLR and swiped the memory card. “ And please rebury Abigail. If I see an article with any pictures from this gravesite, I will give my footage to the cops.”

He placed the camera carefully in it’s place and stalked off in the night. 

When he got back to his car, Will promptly ran over the memory card multiple times. When he was satisfied by the thousands of pieces he’d left in the parking lot, he peeled out to return to Hannibal’s. 

\---  
Will called his neighbors, asking if they would let the dogs out and feed them for the next few days. They were about a mile from his place, but drove by his home in order to travel to and from work daily. Will wasn’t one to ask for favors, but he and the couple had an agreement when it came to the dogs. They had three of their own that he spoiled when they left town for the holidays.

He showed up at Hannibal’s door, shoes covered in mud. It was nearly seven, darkness having washed over the city with the early winter nights. He realized belatedly that he hadn’t called to confirm his arrival. Will felt guilty. He was imposing and tracking mud into Hannibal’s immaculate foyer. Will toed off his shoes and stepped close to place his hand on the other man’s wrist. 

“ I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. I was upset, got a bit carried away. Are we still eating?”

Hannibal’s eyes lit up at the question. All rudeness had been forgiven, _Will wanted to eat his cooking._

They ate slowly and Will savored the meat. Hannibal had made a large sacrifice to maintain their relationship, and Will had finally seen him express some semblance of pain at Abigail’s loss during the funeral. The older man had wanted to create a family as well, but he had not believed it could work. 

If something or someone got in the way of their relationship, Will knew now that neither would hesitate to protect the family that they had left.


	13. This Modern Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal go domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took a lot out of me! Fluff is not my jam (all my writing is full of angst) so I read a lot of fluffy fics in order to get in the right mindset. It's the longest chapter so far, and I'm really pleased with how it turned out.
> 
> A standing ovation to my beta, TayoAnn who makes amazing suggestions and catches all my late-night wording problems. She's the best.
> 
> Fluff & smut for you beautiful people! Enjoy.

  
_”Baby, you've got to be more discerning_   
_I've never known what's good for me_   
_Baby, you've got to be more demanding_   
_I will be yours”_   
\--This Modern Love, Bloc Party   


It was the third morning in a row that Will woke up in Hannibal’s spotless bedroom. It had taken him two nights of tossing and turning--afraid of somehow ruining this impeccable place--before he let himself fall asleep easily in the other man’s arms.

The first night, Will fucked Hannibal into the mattress again, high on the power he’d felt after protecting their relationship. Will had been completely sober this time, his passion fueled by the growing strength in their bond. Hannibal hadn’t asked what Will had done in the hours between the funeral and showing up on his doorstep, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips throughout dinner. Will assumed Hannibal could smell the cemetery on him, the scent of pride roiling below his skin. They had skipped dessert for something much more rewarding.

When the post-orgasm haze had cleared from Will’s head, he stared at the ceiling for a good three hours. The sheets were almost too soft, the warmth of Hannibal beside him too much in the cold of December. Will slept fitfully, waking to concerned eyes and two long fingers tracing the line of his jaw. 

On the second evening, Will had allowed Hannibal’s lips to wrap around his cock, watched with glazed-over eyes as the older man savored him like one of his wines. He propped himself up on his elbows and ran his hands through the soft locks. Hannibal hadn’t gelled his hair back that day. They had stayed in the house most of the afternoon, Will had watched elegant fingers pluck at the harpsichord that resided in his study and later listened to Hannibal reading from a French novel. Will’s limited Creole didn’t offer him as much insight as he had hoped it would, but he enjoyed the lilt of Hannibal’s voice. When they took a walk in the snow to clear their heads, Hannibal’s hand reached for his own.

Despite Hannibal’s manipulative actions in the beginning of their relationship, the older man had yet to take from Will physically. It had been Will who had stolen the first kiss, jerked off the other man, and gripped tightly to his narrow hips as he pounded into Hannibal. The other man had not been demanding in the slightest. So when Hannibal slid down to his knees as they undressed, Will allowed himself to fall back against the bed. He could give Hannibal this. He could share his undoing.

Hannibal hadn’t let him reciprocate and that had Will’s wild imagination running far, far away from Baltimore. He ran through all the awful scenarios that were possible--Hannibal was going to let him go now that he had seen him coming undone, Hannibal didn’t really appreciate his gestures, Hannibal was realizing that he didn’t truly like Will after all. Will was just a mutt, Hannibal had a proclivity for thoroughbreds.

When the man had shuffled closer on the bed at four in the morning, Will looked at him with terrified eyes. Hannibal simply inhaled deeply from the skin before him and a smile worked its way across his thin lips. Will had been shocked; so shocked that he chuckled before letting his mind shut down for a few hours of sleep.

This morning, he’d woken after a restful sleep. Hannibal had seen patients the previous day and Will drove to Wolf Trap and back to get a change of clothes and visit his dogs after lecturing at Quantico, so they had both been a little bit exhausted by the time evening rolled around. Will could smell coffee and something sweet wafting in from the kitchen as he sauntered down the stairs, cotton sleep pants slung low across his hips.

His eyes lit up when he saw that Hannibal Lecter, all posh sophistication, had baked cinnamon rolls. The shiny sugar dripped down the buns and Will felt giddy with nostalgia. 

“ You’ve outdone yourself, Dr. Lecter,” he said with a smile, eagerly hopping into his preferred seat at the island. 

Hannibal’s lips turned upwards and there was a glint of teeth. These small smiles were only for Will, the young man knew. They had appeared slowly but more frequently, always directed towards his disheveled form. The doctor pushed a cup of coffee and a plated roll towards him. 

The rich flavor exploded in his mouth; the pastry tasted much better fresh than it ever had out of an aluminum can. Will’s father had done good by him, but Hannibal spoiled him. It was something Will thought he would never grow used to. He thought of his dilapidated childhood home, dinners cooked from a box or reheated in the microwave. The joy of crawdad season, his sadness when his mother had left. Will never pestered his father too much about that, had always known that the old man wanted the best for him. He would provide what he could for the young boy. Hannibal was apparently intent on rectifying this ‘wrong’. 

“ Will, don’t leave. You look like you’re fading away again.” The words came with a clinical tone, but Hannibal was smiling. He seemed pleased to have had this effect on Will.

“ Hmm,” Will agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. “ I blame you, Han. Don’t act like you make something so unhealthy for just yourself.” 

The older man raised his eyebrows at Will when he heard the nickname, but he didn’t seem displeased at the term of endearment, only surprised. For a moment Hannibal’s eyes seemed unfocused, as if gazing into the past. Will didn’t know whether he should be afraid or not. He wondered briefly if the name was associated with good or bad memories. Will was quickly working himself into a panic. But then, just as quickly as the change had occurred, Hannibal’s eyes cleared and the moment passed. It seemed as if their roles were being reversed more often--it was very unlike Hannibal to become lost in thought as Will had minutes ago.

“ Are you complaining, William?” Hannibal teased, tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth for a bead of icing. A shudder went up Will’s spine, a vivid image image--Hannibal’s tongue caressing his throbbing erection two nights past, tip of his tongue collecting some stray semen--bloomed behind his eyes. 

“ Never,” Will murmured softly about the lip of his mug. When the urge to kiss Hannibal came over him, he didn’t resist it. Hannibal’s self control may be iron, but Will’s was faltering. 

Will considered the many things Hannibal did to please him. Most of the actions were thoughtful and calculated whereas Will’s were spontaneous, half-baked. He felt his options for sincerely reciprocating were few, but he did have one idea. 

Just the day before, he’d flipped idly through his mail in Wolf Trap while watching the dogs frolic in the dusting of snow that covered his land. Tucked in between the electric and gas bills was an invitation to the FBI’s Christmas gala. Not everyone was invited, but most of the BAU ended up going every year. Except for Will. He lacked the social skills, the wardrobe, and a date. 

Normally, the shiny cardstock made its way to the trash with the other junk mail Will received. This time, his thoughts had drifted to Hannibal. It was tucked away in his duffle bag, sitting on a chair in their bedroom. He knew that this would make Hannibal happy. 

Will could make Hannibal happy.

\---

He slipped the card onto the mahogany table as Hannibal savored his wine. The older man was lounging in a comfortable armchair while Will rested his head against his knee. Will was perfectly happy to be sprawled on the plush carpet of Hannibal’s sitting room. On most evenings, the older man read and Will graded papers or exams. It was quiet and restful, the only noise coming from the crackle of the wood in the fireplace. 

“ What is this, Will?”

“ An invitation.” Although Will was confident in their relationship, Hannibal’s certainty was something he did not count on. His empathy had never fully extended to the older man--he couldn’t get behind his eyes. There was a possibility that Hannibal didn’t want to be seen with him in public. 

The older man snorted down at him, raising an eyebrow as he flipped the card back and forth. Will was busy holding back a fit of chuckles at such a domestic noise coming from Hannibal. “ A Christmas ball, thrown by the FBI. This looks enjoyable. Are you asking me out, Mr. Graham?”

Will couldn’t prevent the blush that creeped up his face. He glanced up at the older man, exposing his pale neck. Hannibal’s hand threaded through his hair and tugged reassuringly. With a hum, Will nodded. “ Yeah, Hannibal. Come to the ball with me? Pretty please?”

\---

Will didn’t know how he had found himself in this situation. He was standing atop some sort of pedestal, frowning down at Hannibal. The older man was clearly pleased with himself, sipping a finger of scotch and drumming his fingers atop one arm of the antique chair he had sunk into. The smile he wore reached his eyes.

All he needed was a halfway decent suit, but Hannibal never halfway did anything.

A large woman with a thick foreign accent was bustling about Will. There were tape measures and pins wrapped about all of his limbs. He was too nervous to move, letting her nimble fingers move across the fabric of the tuxedo he wore. Hannibal had tried to explain the importance of tailoring to Will, but the younger man was too busy being overwhelmed by the price tags in the small building. The wooden floorboards had creaked below his feet as Hannibal draped ties over his forearm. 

The tailor, Hilda, disappeared behind a curtain after removing all of the pins from Will. She held a sheet of measurements that she had taken and colors that Hannibal had picked out. The older man stood and offered his hand to Will, helping him off the pedestal. He began to strip with no shame, scowling at Hannibal.

“ You know, I’m still mad that you’re spending all of this money,” Will muttered. He started to pull up his tan slacks when his wrist was caught.

“ I enjoy giving to you, Will. I will enjoy seeing you wear things that I bought for you. Do not think that this is a one-sided arrangement.” After lips brushed his knuckles, Will was set free to resume zipping up his pants. 

It was almost a week away from the ball. Hannibal wouldn’t allow him to go without a suit, despite Will’s protests for nearly five days. The older man had eventually made him gumbo with chicken, shrimp and rice. Will couldn’t resist him.

They left the small, sweet smelling store with three bags of new shirts, ties, and pants for Will. The suit wouldn’t be ready until the night before the ball. He had protested minimally, not wanting to appear as a petulant child. He watched the other man smile happily on their drive back to the large home in the suburbs. For dinner, Will was allowed to help with the preparations. He chopped up the vegetables and occasionally groped Hannibal’s ass, placing kisses along the side of his neck.

“ Not in the kitchen, Will.”

“ Hannibal, you can’t be serious. You’re going to tell me that if I came onto you, here, in your shrine, that you would deny me? _The_ Will Graham?” Will’s eyes were alight with laughter, he felt a weightlessness in his body that had left him in childhood. “ Rude, Dr. Lecter. Very rude.”

“ Well, Professor Graham, I think that you might be able to make an argument for a special occasion.” One of Hannibal’s hands came to Will’s crotch, cupping his member and squeezing it gently. Teasingly. Hannibal was quick to turn back to dinner.

Will huffed out his frustration and pinched the older man’s butt a final time before returning to the comparatively boring task of chopping onions and red potatoes. 

\---

Will visited his dogs the morning of the ball. When he returned to Baltimore, he felt like he was a canine himself, being punished for playing the mud. Hannibal insisted that he shower thoroughly to remove any dog hair. They would not be ruining this suit. It was the reason that his new shirts and ties had stayed at Hannibal’s as well.

Hannibal wouldn’t even get in to shower with him, which made Will pout heavily. Two hours later, they were both properly dressed for the evening. The older man had gelled Will’s hair down, shaved him closely with a straight razor, and insisted that he wear his contacts for the evening. When Will looked in the full length mirror, he wasn’t sure he knew who stood before him. The clothes were soft, but restricting. Hannibal hadn’t made too many changes to the traditional coloration, but Will’s tie had highlights of navy threaded into the fabric. Will hadn’t realized how much the older man enjoyed his eye color until now.

“ Very handsome.”

The voice had startled Will, but its quality was not lost on him. It had rumbled out of Hannibal’s broad chest, full of power and lust. Will could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring in his belly. He stepped towards Hannibal and placed his hands upon the older man’s lapels, tugging softly. 

“ You should be glad that I respect you so much, Hannibal. Or I would set us back another hour or so in the next five minutes. I would really just love to run my hands through that hard hair of yours. You know that I think your hair looks much better down.” Will moved his hand up to the other man’s scalp playfully, but Hannibal spun him around by the wrist quickly. The profiler laughed as his back was pulled tight to Hannibal’s front, restrained. “ You know I wouldn’t, Han. Let’s get out of here.”

\---  
Hannibal knew that Will wouldn’t dare touch his immaculately kept hair, but he couldn’t resist the chance to carefully restrain the smaller man. He could easily arouse Will and refrain from messing up their clothing in this position. Hannibal pushed his hips forwards into the other man firmly, just enough so that the younger man could feel the growing arousal in his trousers.

“ You’re right, Will,” his voice was husky now. “ We should go.”

Hannibal squeezed Will’s ass once more and then strode from the young man, adjusting the bulge in his pants. 

When they arrived at the gala, Hannibal was more than proud to have Will clutching about his elbow. They immediately moved to where the champagne was being served at Will’s insistent tugging. Hannibal watched the younger man’s Adam’s apple bob with hungry eyes. They switched flutes before sliding in between groups of people.

Will seemed to know everyone and they all knew him, but words had always failed Hannibal’s lover. His smile was not patronizing as he helpfully offered the word ‘partner’ or ‘companion’ as he was introduced to various circles. Those that had their suspicions about the relationship did not voice them and Hannibal was grateful for that. He really didn’t feel like collecting business cards and making poor Will’s evening more painful than it had to be.

The young man was skirting around the ballroom, careful to avoid those in the BAU. Hannibal didn’t ignore this. “ Certainly you’d feel more comfortable around your peers, Will?” It was not really a suggestion, but a question. 

“ Well, Alana, she figured it out, but--”

“ And what consequences do you think would occur, Will? Your peers have no reason to judge you for finding someone to anchor you in this line of work.” Hannibal ran a hand over the curve of Will’s waist, settling along the base of his spine. Will relaxed into it and a smile made its way upon Hannibal’s lips.

When Will had allowed Hannibal to suck his cock nearly two weeks past, the older man knew that he was finally seeing his plan come to fruition. Things had changed along the way. Hannibal had not expected to feel so completely _full_ when Will held him down and fucked him without mercy. He had planned on tapping out, allowing the young man the feeling of power to encourage his transformation. Instead, Hannibal had found himself overcome with emotion. Will’s movements were not simply demanding, they were pleading. Will had allowed himself to see Hannibal in those thrusts, to dominate him, but still respect him. Hannibal had never thought to find such a creature in his life.

So when Will had allowed his dick into the mouth of a cannibal, the older man felt a strange feeling bloom inside his chest. He felt carelessly giddy around Will now, and the profiler clearly appreciated it. 

Now, he felt the effect that his praising smile had upon the man beside him instantly. The tension eased from Will’s shoulders and they went to get refills on their champagne before arriving at the corner where the BAU had huddled themselves.

“ You guys are way too easy to find,” Will teased. It was clear he didn’t want to broach the topic unless it was brought to the surface. Katz’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two of them and a wide grin broke across her face.

“ Holy shit, this is the guy you were complaining about for weeks, Graham!? Dr. Lecter, I didn’t know you were such a troublemaker!” Hannibal raised an eye. It was clear that she had her fill of alcohol as well. He wasn’t aware that Will had been belly-aching about their relationship, but was glad he hadn’t completely shut down during their times apart.

When Hannibal glanced over to his lover, the bright red blush was creeping up his neck. Alana was trying to politely hide her giggles.

“ Will, you do clean up really well. You’ll have to keep Hannibal around for that. It looks like you guys--you’re doing so much better than before.” It was clear that the compliment had been strained. Hannibal felt a surge of jealousy ripple through his shoulders, down his arms. His hand instinctively pressed against Will’s back. The younger man gave him a pointed look. 

“ Thanks, Alana. Bev. Hannibal’s been telling everyone that he’s my companion, like I’m paying him to comfort me in my old age, but I just want him to say the word boyfriend.” Not only Katz, but Will, too, had drank more than his share. As Will Graham was wont to do, he had caught Hannibal off guard. He had been spending too much time socializing and staring into those blue eyes, unencumbered by glasses--not counting the times that Will picked up a new flute of champagne and then switched it with Hannibal’s once empty.

Jack Crawford looked absolutely mortified, Alana, Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian were all stifling giggles behind hands, hor d'oeuvres, or alcohol. Apparently they all wished to hear the doctor utter a slang term as well. 

Hannibal wasn’t so inclined to give that to Will or his peers that evening, and smoothly changed the conversation. Will spent most of his evening comfortably drinking with the forensics team while Alana, Jack, and Hannibal discussed more academic matters. Every so often, Hannibal would glance over to the pleasant sight of Will laughing, or red faced from some embarrassing admission.

He never thought that such joy could be brought from something so domestic. Not again. 

\---  
The night had ended without fanfare. Hannibal had let Will retreat at an acceptable time, and he made promises with the forensics team for drinks the following week. They were trying to convince him to drag Hannibal along as the two exited.

“ It wasn’t so bad,” Will said, fingers tracing the form of Hannibal’s knuckles. The alcohol was starting to settle in his system and his instincts to run far away from the previous situation had dulled to a twinge in his abdomen. During most of the gala, he was high on the desire to escape, all of his words jittery and punctuated by nervous glances back at Hannibal.

He had been afraid that the older man would have thought his social skills not worth saving, but it seemed that they had made it through the night unscathed. Well, apart from the doctor’s pride.

“ You were rather flippant in front of your peers, William. Regarding our relationship.” The tone carried no malice, but Will felt suddenly like prey again. Hannibal ate the rude. Will had been crass.

“ Han, I was just, you know, the alcohol. I was trying to be comfortable around them. It felt more appropriate.” 

“ You were trying to be cute,” Hannibal snorted, glancing at the younger man to see his bottom lip upturned in quite an impressive pout. Will’s fears faded when Hannibal had _snorted_.

“ I wasn’t?” Will somehow managed to make his pout larger and dramatically sighed. 

“ I never said that, dear Will.” The long, surgeon’s fingers wrapped around his own hand and squeezed reassuringly.

Will had been doing his best in the last couple of weeks to act like a normal couple. A normal couple that consumed the meat of other human beings. On the weekdays they would spend their time in their respective professions unless Lecter was without patients. They had spent one weekend at Hannibal’s and another at Will’s. This weekend, his neighbors were watching over the dogs once more. 

For the most part, Will knew he was being delusional. He had hoped that his display of aggression would pacify Hannibal, that somehow the man would reconsider their discussions about murder, cannibalism, and the loss of their adoptive daughter. After all his therapy sessions, Will could acknowledge these thoughts as irrational. However, he saved each of these memories for the fact that murder hadn’t touched their conversations since the funeral. Will hadn’t been pulled into any cases, which meant Hannibal hadn’t been killing.

What Will hadn’t expected was the hands that had been so gently pushing him along all evening to be harshly grabbing his hips as the door closed. Will felt solid wood behind his back and suddenly Hannibal’s lips were on his own. He tasted like mint and honey. Will was embarrassed to imagine what his own mouth reeked of. The thoughts were quickly ripped away as his suit jacket was discarded. He didn’t waste time, hopping out of his shoes and taking the stairs two at a time. It had been four days since Hannibal had last brought him dinner in Wolf Trap. 

When Hannibal reached the bedroom, Will was ridding his body of the last piece of clothing. He looked expectantly up at Hannibal and was met with an exasperated laugh. Will wasn’t exactly ready to slow down, so he helped out with the task of undressing the doctor, pulling his trousers and underwear down with a swift movement. There was a noise of discontent that rumbled in the back of Hannibal’s throat at the mistreatment of his clothing but it was replaced with a contented hum when Will’s mouth engulfed the half-engorged member.

Will was new to fellatio, but he’d watched Hannibal do it just a few nights before and knew what felt good. Just like the hand job, he felt it out and was rewarded. Eventually, Hannibal pulled him up with a firm tug to his hair. They toppled back onto the mattress, a mess of limbs and lips clashing. When the steady fingers probed at his entrance, Will’s eyes went wide. The glaze of alcohol dissipated from his mind and the muscles in his legs locked completely. He didn’t remember when his legs had wrapped around Hannibal’s waist.

Just as sudden as they were there, the fingers left and Hannibal’s face was in front of Will’s. His eyes were full of concern, adoration. “ Are you okay, Will? Sorry, I should’ve warned you. I apologize.”

Will almost wanted to laugh at how composed the other man was, but just smiled sweetly. He trusted Hannibal. “ I’m yours, Han. Take me.” Will leaned up and kissed the doctor passionately. The feeling was mutual and his body was pressed firmly into the mattress. 

The only break came from the fingers being re-lubed and Will was wincing once more, bearing down on the intrusion. His limited sexual repertoire had been limited to women and topping men, this was new to Will. It didn’t mean it wasn’t enjoyable. The stretch was painful. It stung and burned and Will didn’t know how to compensate except for wiggling against the palm that pushed against his ass when the finger had seated itself deeply inside. His muscles contracted and Hannibal’s hand pressed on his stomach gently.

“ Yeah, push down, love. Just like that, push back on me.”

Hannibal was thoughtful, stretching him slowly with one hand as the other maintained the erection that flagged slightly when the pain got to be too much. The doctor’s lips wandered up and down Will’s neck, whispering sweet words of encouragement and endearment into his ear. 

“ Fuck, Hannibal. Fuck me. Come on,” Will keened when the man stroked over his prostate for what felt like the thousandth time. The young man was determined not to orgasm from that alone, but Hannibal was making it very difficult.

Three fingers left him and suddenly the pressure on him was so different. When Hannibal breached him and sat a mere inch inside, Will felt himself gasping for breath. The older man was cooing at him, stroking his hair, his cock, his flanks, parting his thighs wider and whispering what a good boy he was. Will realized that his first evaluation of Hannibal’s body--that he had a huge cock--was definitely holding true. It took a shamefully long amount of time for Will to feel the larger man’s pelvis resting against his own. The sensation was sinful.

“ God, Han. Fuck, you’re inside of me, you’re all the way in,” he panted, eyes wild as he reached his arm around the other man’s neck. Their lips met and Hannibal growled possessively as his hips began to rock. It was slow, meant to help ease the sensation but Will was greedy. “ Fuck me, Hannibal. I’m yours, _fuck_ me.” 

When Hannibal pulled back, Will could hardly feel the tip of his cock keeping him open before the length was thrust back inside. Will’s breath left with his mind. 

The pleasure that was pooling at the base of Will’s spine was more intense than it had been ever before. He was desperate to get more of Hannibal, hips rocking back on every thrust in. Will never knew that being filled could be so intense, so rewarding. He knew that this was his final piece to withhold from Hannibal, but he wanted the older man to have this, to _take_ it.

Will came with a shout of the older man’s name, biting down hard into the clavicle before him. Not long after, liquid heat shot within him. Hannibal’s eyes had gone dark with pleasure, his jaw slack, carefully gelled hair coming half loose, and Will’s name spilling forth from his lips like a chant. The hips moved against Will’s in a few lazy, final thrusts, before stilling. 

Hannibal pulled out and Will was bereft at the loss, more so because the man left so quickly to fetch a towel. When he returned, the possessiveness had not left the doctor’s eyes. He moved a warm, wet cloth soothingly over Will’s tainted skin.

“ I wouldn’t leave, Will. I’m yours.” The words were raspy from Hannibal’s orgasm but sincere, affectionate.

Will sighed happily, moving so that his head was resting on Hannibal’s chest. The soft hair tickled his mouth as he whispered. “ Yeah, mine.” 

The thought didn’t bother Will as much as he thought it would.


	14. Voodooized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will uncovers another secret that Hannibal has been hiding from him and comes to a conclusion about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many, many thanks to TayoAnn, my patient beta. 
> 
> I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, especially compared to my previous speed. Life is a fickle bitch. TayoAnn recommended that I waited till tomorrow to post this chapter for more views, but I felt bad for how long it's been.
> 
> Hopefully we're all alive after the finale tonight! <3

  
_”Where? Honey, where?_   
_You better show up soon to be fair. If you put on more needle in me--_   
_Pull out my soul and put it in your mouth to be full_   
_Puncture after punctures like its blown”_   
\--Voodooized, Empires   


The rest of the winter season passed for Will without too much excitement. Hannibal dragged him to an opera--and Will refused to allow the older man to buy him a new wardrobe again. Will forced Hannibal to attend New Year’s Eve in a dirty pub with the forensics team. Will wouldn’t soon forget seeing the drunken lack of inhibition written on the older man’s face, the way that he’d splayed himself upon the duvet for Will to take each piece of him, like a buffet.

Each time Hannibal murdered, he left Will a note. Sometimes the empath found it in his lunch, or sticking out from under his pillow. The realization was always accompanied by a sinking feeling, tears pricking the back of his eyes. In those first few minutes, it didn’t matter that Will had said it was okay for Hannibal to continue killing, that Will was the one who requested warning before walking onto the man’s crime scenes. It was still painful. How could he love a murderer? The Chesapeake Ripper? 

It was easy to rationalize how he felt for Hannibal when they spent weekends together at Will’s house. Hannibal would fawn over both Will and the dogs. The doctor would even follow him to the river, meticulously sketching the fish that Will piled up a bucket for gutting. They would pleasure one another, cook breakfast in their underwear, and life was so simple. In Wolf Trap, the Ripper didn’t exist. 

Only in Baltimore could Will feel the overwhelming sense of foreboding. The rooms were too clean, Hannibal’s movements were more calculated, and Will felt like a pet. He didn’t go where he wasn’t explicitly given permission to go to, but the cellar door was now unlocked. Will didn’t want to go down there. 

_Not yet_. The thought always was in the recesses of his consciousness when he turned away from the thick oak door. 

Hannibal had killed three times since the Christmas gala, in typical Ripper fashion. The bodies had appeared in quick succession, barely three days between one another. When the pendulum swung, it wasn’t hard for Will to fall behind maroon eyes, looking down to see strong, capable hands. He could remember some of the victims--he and Hannibal had run into them together.

A patron at the bar who had sloshed ale on Will without an apology.

The tailor’s assistant who had sneered at Will’s battered fishing jacket when they’d gone to purchase him a proper wool coat.

Will didn’t recognize the third victim, but with the current pattern, he didn’t doubt that it was another present for him. Still, he could eat meals at Hannibal’s without complaining; pretending to ignore those folded notes left to him. For Will, denial came easily. 

The first signs of spring brought a different serial killer; five victims were found exactly two days apart from one another. Their bodies were always discovered in the early morning light, the rays shining upon their faces. All were blond, white, and appeared generally flawless in life. In death, their tongues were removed, eyes stitched shut, mouths given a Chelsea smile, and hands lacerated. 

Four of the victims thus far suffered from mental health issues, but Will realized that depression and various mood disorders were common in those suffering from long-term chronic illness. The first victim had HIV/AIDs, two had different gastrointestinal ailments, another had been suffering from ankylosing spondylitis, and the most recent had cirrhosis of the liver due to a life of alcoholism. 

The forensics team had taken to calling their murderer “Kevorkian” when Jack was out of the vicinity. None of the victims had known each other through a support group, their illnesses were varied enough so that their doctor’s appointments hadn’t overlapped in any way, despite the prevalence of depression.

Cause of death was always the same--overdose. Somehow, the murderer was manipulating these victims into taking far too many painkillers. With each murder, Will felt like he was getting closer to realizing what connection all of the blonds had, but he couldn’t piece it together. It wasn’t easy with the clock ticking away. There was less than a day until the next murder occurred and Jack hovered about Will constantly, waiting for an epiphany that wasn’t going to happen.

\---  
“ Hannibal, I really can’t fucking deal with this right now. I can’t believe you would do this, you know that Jack has been watching me like a hawk these past two weeks,” Will knew he was raising his voice, that the quality was nearing a shriek. “ Can’t you think of anyone but yourself?!”

Will was waving the slip of sketching paper in the other man’s face wildly. There was an address written on it in the man’s scrawling handwriting--a remnant from his days in ER. Will knew that this was another body, a body that he didn’t have time for. He was trying to save ill blond people. Hannibal knew this, was more than aware of the stress Jack that was putting on their relationship. 

In the past week, Will had spent more time in Quantico than he had in Wolf Trap and Baltimore combined. His temperature had increased in the past three days, the nightmares had returned two nights past. That’s when Hannibal had come to Wolf Trap, refusing to leave until Will was finished with the case.

Will stomped out of the kitchen, not allowing Hannibal the chance to reply. His phone was buzzing upon the nightstand. The text from Jack was the same address that Will gripped in his left palm. He dressed through gritted teeth and left without a goodbye, anger coming off of him in waves. Hannibal was selfish, a quality that Will had long ago acknowledged. Hannibal had been deprived from a young age and craved the finest in life. The older man wanted Will in his life for his own hedonistic purposes. He dressed Will in finery to gaze upon him and prepared the most exotic dishes out of human flesh _simply because he wished for them_.

However, Will knew that Hannibal’s qualities bent and twisted when it came to the empath. He was aware of the effects he had on Hannibal. In his current situation, Will had expected more fellatio, maybe Hannibal relinquishing control in the bedroom. Something akin to the day he’d scraped his knee when they were outside--Hannibal cooked him comfort food and gave him a handjob. 

Not another murder for him to look at.

\---  
When Will had arrived at the scene, he had successfully lowered his pulse through the bullshit mindful breathing that Alana had been trying to force on him. He ducked under the police tape and shouldered his way in between local PD, not thrilled to discover which body parts Hannibal had taken this morning. This would mean two more murders within the week.

What he hadn’t expected was _bodies_. Not one, but two. The differences were stark. One was a female. Blond, beautiful, with all the markings of their “Kevorkian”. Jack was talking into his ear, saying that they had this one under wraps, the male in the room was the serial killer. He had committed suicide. 

He was young, in his mid twenties. His skin was the color of Beverly’s coffee after she’d added two creams and a sugar. His hair was dark, eyes clouded in death. 

But the young man hadn’t taken his life. Hannibal had. Hannibal had murdered the woman, and then the killer when he’d entered the scene. Will could see the struggle as Jack pulled him back, the pendulum swinging without his permission. 

Hannibal was the Copycat. The Chesapeake Ripper and The Copycat were the same person.

For the rest of the day, Will was on autopilot. He bullshitted the various characteristics that he’d observed within the serial killer previously, emphasizing and twisting them to sound like they were new observations. It was obvious that the older woman had been his intended victim, probably someone he was very close to if this was his final deed. It was possible that he killed himself after realizing that he couldn’t bring her to a higher state of beauty. He was too upset by his decision, possibly even expressing remorse by his own rather messy suicide.

The forensic team gathered evidence and hunted for an ID on both bodies while Will lectured without the gusto he’d acquired in the last two or three months. Hannibal had given it to Will; he could take it away. 

Will knew that Hannibal would remain in Wolf Trap. When he killed, all of his appointments were cancelled for the day. In the past, Will would come home and allow himself to be pampered by the older man. They would fuck, Will’s arms encasing, restraining Hannibal. He needed to know that the doctor was still his, that they were on equal ground. For dinner, Hannibal would serve his latest harvest. 

In this situation, Will couldn’t handle eating anything, let alone meat. He got a hotel in Quantico and stayed the night. It would be easier to go into the lab in case there was any new information. Hannibal would take care of the dogs.

For Will, it was all too easy to shut things out. It was a coping mechanism that he’d developed as a young child. He continued to use it when his parents fought, after his mother left, and when the empathy became too much throughout the rest of his life. In high school, in college, in the police department for New Orleans, again at the BAU. The encephalitis had disabled his knack for disassociation, twisting his escape from reality into a nightmare full of people he couldn’t save.

He didn’t remember falling asleep upon the hard mattress, but woke with a start at three in the morning when his phone buzzed loudly atop the nightstand. Will had slept atop the duvet, fully clothed from the previous day. There was a dull ache in his chest, one that he associated with the lack of Hannibal in his bed. 

It was Beverly--they had the IDs.

\---  
Not only was Will now falling back into his habit of staring into space, he was popping Advil like it was no one’s business. When he stepped into the morgue, swallowing three down with a swig of coffee, both Beverly and Price frowned at him. He didn’t feel like dealing with their lectures.

“ Who do we have?”

“ Mother and son.” Jack was striding inside of the morgue, coming around to clap Will on the shoulder. Although they hadn’t been able to save the mother, the head of the BAU was always happy to see a serial killer dead. Will knew that Jack hoped to run across the Ripper one day in a similar position.

Will found it easy to succumb to _all_ of his old habits, and the lies fell freely from his lips. In this moment, his anger for Hannibal seemed to have numbed to a dull ache. No matter how he felt about Hannibal’s actions, Will would eventually have to face his own emotions. This routine of being blindsided by murders was growing tedious at best. But it wasn’t the murders, it was the breach of trust that bothered him. Will had bared all for the other man, but it had not been reciprocated. How could he trust him?

Will could feel Jack’s stare on the back of his neck. Coming back from his thoughts, he focused on what was tangible. A case he could explain.

“ She suffered from Huntington’s,” Will murmured, flipping through the file on the mother. “ Her symptoms were getting worse. This disease usually does not present with symptoms until the thirties or so. I bet if we looked, our killer would have tested positive for the gene. He wanted to keep his victims beautiful, before their diseases wasted them away. These were people new to their ailments, not having fully succumbed to them. He couldn’t handle the future of ending up in this position, so he killed himself. The reality of his mother’s situation had been too much.

“ She was his biological mother, but neither felt the reality of the situation. She was in denial and our killer was deeply hurt by her actions. She wasn’t allowing him to help with her illness, she didn’t want him to be a part of her life at all. He wasn’t in the family photos at the crime scene. The husband didn’t know him,” Will continued, shaking his head. “ Older than the marriage, he was given up for adoption, probably shortly after he was born. He hated his mother for passing this on to him when she wouldn’t lay claim to him. Even more for not allowing him to help her. When he killed her, he realized that she was the only one who would ever truly understand him. Unwanted and diseased. He couldn’t take it.”

Everyone accepted Will’s insight. They always did. He spent his afternoon doing paperwork, helping Jack close up the case file. As Will tried to leave the office, Beverly stopped him at the door with a hand to his shoulder. It was gentle and her lips were contorted into a concerned frown.

“ You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday, Will. Your headaches are back. You don’t seem like yourself. Where’s Hannibal? What’s going on?” Her voice was bordering on maternal. 

Will knew that everyone had gotten comfortable around his changed personality in the past few months. He had finally begun to feel at ease with himself. For the first week, even the serial killers weren’t crawling in his head as they had in years past. Hannibal had grounded him, kept him safe and sane. It was no secret, even to Alana and Jack who had questioned the ethicality of their relationship. Now he felt like his anchor had not only been uprooted, but brandished as a dangerous weapon. Will was spiraling out of control, drowning in a bottomless trench.

“ Okay, Bev. I’ll get a drink with you.” It was easy to acknowledge the unspoken invitation at the entrance to the BAU. Will would rather not bring anything up until he had a buzz from the alcohol. More importantly, he was desperate to find another excuse to not go home just yet.

\---  
The best part about drinking with Beverly was that although she was quick to pry for details when it came to the bedroom, she didn’t question Will’s desire to keep conflicts ambiguous. She was happy to provide advice and an ear to listen, but didn’t demand all of the specifics. Will was comfortable confessing that he felt his trust had been broken, that he thought that they had shared all of their significant secrets with one another. 

Beverly didn’t doubt that both men had skeletons in their respective closets. Old lovers, abusive relationships maybe, Hannibal probably had a stalker, and who knew what had gone down with him in Europe. She nodded as Will attempted to articulate himself, bought him another whiskey when he hung his head in defeat. 

By midnight, Will was feeling a little bit better. At least this wasn’t an unusual situation. Will was prone to trust issues, Hannibal had appearances to keep up. It would be an uphill battle, but Beverly assured him that they would make it through this. 

Will had to take a cab home. He would get his car in the morning. 

The porch light was on when Will paid the driver and strode clumsily to his front door. Will fumbled with the keys, but the door opened when he put weight on it to steady himself. He frowned and stepped inside, greeting the dogs that had been roused from their slumber. The standing lamp in the corner of the room was on.

“ You’re drunk.”

Hannibal was sitting in Will’s favorite armchair, left leg crossed over the right. He was in flannel pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. It was the outfit Will most liked to see on him; his heart melted and cock jolted even now. The doctor hadn’t looked up from the book he was reading. He had smelled the alcohol seeping from Will’s skin.

“ Yeah, well. I am. You lied to me.”

“ I did not lie, I just withheld information, Will. There is a difference.” Hannibal was still refusing eye contact, even though that was Will’s area of expertise. “ I did not think you would--”

“ I trusted you. I thought we had finished with all the secrets, Hannibal. I want to be done with that. I want you, want to trust you. I...I love you.” Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way that Hannibal had snuck a packed lunch into Will’s car after their fight while he was getting dressed. Or it was the way that Hannibal let him have his space when he needed it, crowded and comforted him when Will felt like he was alone. When Will thought of all that he’d given up for this man, all the lies he’d told, there really wasn’t any other explanation. Will had realized it during the cab ride home--he truly did love Hannibal, the older man was a part of the pack now. He wanted to be drunk with Hannibal, resting his body upon the stronger one in the backseat of that cab. He wanted to be assured that he could come home to Hannibal after work each evening. Will never wanted that sinking feeling to be his only companion in an empty bed. He didn’t want to question their relationship again. And despite his fury, he could forgive Hannibal. That had to mean something.

He took off his glasses and walked over to the armchair, closing the book and setting it gently on the table. Hannibal met his stare with equal intensity. “ I love you, Hannibal. Don’t shut me out. Don’t withhold anything from me. I want it all, all of you.”

Hannibal’s eyes were glistening, shiny in a way that Will had only observed once. _Mischa_ \--only her name had elicited such a rift within Hannibal’s stoic demeanor. A large hand fumbled for Will’s waist, and he was pulled into Hannibal’s lap. Will rested his head against the broad chest, inhaling deeply. The other hand carded itself through his curls, finally resting at the base of his skull, cradling him. Hannibal’s breathing had lost it’s controlled rhythm and Will felt the other man’s chin rest upon his head. He wouldn’t push Hannibal to respond to his admission.

“ You’re drunk.” That was what Hannibal Lecter had to say on the matter, and Will would allow it. Hannibal was just as afraid of being hurt by this relationship as Will was. The thought only reinforced his feelings for his lover.

\---  
When Will woke, it was to pain lancing through his skull. The memory of being hit with a fast pitch through his helmet at a little league baseball game flashed before his eyes. His ears were ringing and the room was entirely too bright. Will buried himself beneath the covers, groaning when he heard a noise on the opposite side of the room.

“ I called Jack and asked if Alana would cover your lecture today. He seemed very chipper. Here, I have some aspirin for your headache. There is coffee percolating downstairs, when you feel up to facing the day.”

The sound of the large bottle and a glass hitting the nightstand was like a screech compared to the soothing tones of Hannibal’s voice. “ Come back to bed, Han, please? I’m miserable. I shouldn’t have let Beverly buy me that last whiskey.”

“ Very poor decision making, indeed.” The voice was mercifully close as Will shifted, refusing to greet the morning. He would need to invest in some blackout curtains before daring to get that drunk again. 

His bed dipped and Will slipped towards Hannibal’s warm body underneath the duvet. “ Talk to me. Your voice helps.”

Will could practically feel Hannibal preening at the compliment, knowing the smile that would tug at his lips and expose the tips of his sharp canines. 

Hannibal picked up a novel and there was a rustling of pages before his velvet voice penetrated the air. Will presumed it was the book that he had been reading the previous night. For the first two pages, Will could not place the language. It wasn’t until he picked out some repetitive words that Will proudly realized that it was Hannibal’s mother tongue, the one he slipped into occasionally during their more intimate activities. 

When Will felt brave enough to deal with sunlight in addition to the dull throb in his cranium, he shimmied up the bed, eyes still closed. Hannibal coaxed him into taking only 2 pills, bringing the rim of the glass up to his mouth to drink. 

Hannibal’s face was lined with more worry than usual. Something was paining him and for a moment, Will couldn’t place it. 

_He thinks I forgot about last night_.

“ I do love you, Hannibal. But I swear to God, if you fucking _withhold information_ from me anymore, I will...I will think of some awful punishment for you.” While no longer drunk, Will found it difficult to properly threaten his lover. How does one intimidate a cannibalistic serial killer?

Hannibal smirked at him, and they kissed deeply. Will tasted of sour sleep, Hannibal of coffee. Their tongues intertwined and within minutes, salt had infused itself into the flavor of their kiss. Will pulled back with a slight frown, looking at the tear-tracks down Hannibal’s cheeks. The older man was smiling, but his eyes were wet. “ I love you too, Will.”

Will pinned Hannibal on the bed, renewed energy coursing through his muscles. He ravished the doctor with kisses, touched every inch of his body. There were a few lacerations upon his abdomen--the serial killer that Hannibal had murdered just the night before did not die without a final show. Will pressed his lips to each of these marks, tracing the lines with his fingertips soon after. He eagerly divested Hannibal of the pajama bottoms, inhaling the heady, earthy scent that waited for him beneath the fabric. 

He sucked Hannibal’s cock with vigor, wishing to consume every bit of the beautiful creature below him. Hannibal hadn’t killed the man just because his art hadn’t been considered tasteful to the doctor. He had killed because of how the case was affecting Will. That, itself, was an act of love. Will could acknowledge it and thank the man who lay below him. Hannibal’s hips moved into his mouth lightly, gently, until Will stopped all motion. His chest was draped across the man’s thighs, throat opened up, and lips sealed around the tortured flesh. But he didn’t move.

It was permission. Hannibal’s fingers threaded through his curls, using them as leverage as he thrusted and guided Will’s head in time. Involuntary tears dripped from Will’s eyes, his nose leaked, and his gag reflex spasmed upon the swollen head of his lover’s cock. Hannibal pulled back in time to shoot the spurts of his semen across Will’s face. They dripped heavily from his bangs, right eyelid, the tip of his nose, and clung to the stubble upon his jaw.

Will knew that Hannibal was saving the image in his mind for later sketches. Curious maroon eyes caused Will to shiver. He leaned forward, licking the last drops of liquid from Hannibal’s cock to ground them both fully in the experience.

Hannibal hummed as he cleaned Will with a warm, wet washcloth. They kissed languidly and Will finally got to taste the reheated coffee that had been brewed for him almost an hour ago. 

“ I thought that I understood you, Will Graham. You are always surprising me. I did not think that we would be changing each other.” 

A broad grin appeared over Will’s face. Hannibal hadn’t intended to fall in love with him, but here they were. The give and take of their relationship was becoming more intense; the rewards were desirable and the sacrifices were monumental. Before, the thought of killing for Hannibal had revolted Will. But as he pulled Hannibal into the light of the day, the other man yanked him into the shadows. They would eventually find a compromise. In this moment, Will believed that he could manage the next move in their dance.


	15. Off To The Races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will fears growth in he and Hannibal's relationship when it means that he could become more like his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He-ate-us writing is much more difficult than I anticipated! My beta, TayoAnn, has been wonderfully helpful as usual. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is much appreciated<3

  
_”My old man is a tough man but_   
_He's got a soul as sweet as blood red jam_   
_And he shows me, he knows me_   
_Every inch of my tar black soul_   
_He doesn't mind I have a flat broke down life_   
_In fact he says he thinks it's why he might like about me_   
_Admires me, the way I roll like a rolling stone.”_   
\--Off To The Races, Lana Del Ray   


For a brief moment, all Will could see was red. The crimson of blood, deep maroon of dyed wool, shiny auburn of springy curls, and the blinding, pure red of his rage. His fingers were beginning to ache with the effort of holding onto fragile skin, the shallow scratches on his own body were starting to sting.

After a few more moments, the struggling subsided. 

Freddie had taken her last photographs earlier that morning. They were for an article that would never be published. Will felt pride thrumming through his veins as he gazed into unseeing, wide eyes. Blood was spattered from where he’d broken her nose, a tooth hung crooked, root still attached to the bright pink gums. Will had painted a picture with very warm colors in the brisk, spring evening.

\---  
 **earlier that morning**

“ You’ll be the first dish I get to prepare on this countertop,” Hannibal had murmured against Will’s heated skin.

It had been over a year since Will had uncovered the full truth of his lover. Though it had taken time to become comfortable knowing the real identity of Hannibal's "ethical butcher," Will could now make cannibal puns with the best of them. 

He chuckled at his lover’s blunt sense of humor and attempted to suggest that maybe Hannibal marinate him first. The words were quickly muffled against his lips with a bruising kiss.

It was understandable that the older man was rushing. They hadn’t seen much of one another for over a week, each packing and moving his respective household. Will’s tasks had been made harder by the dogs; he’d eventually asked his neighbors if they could keep them in their yard until the move was complete. 

With Hannibal’s eagerness, there truly had not been much preparing for their lovemaking. Hannibal had lost patience at two fingers, Will was pushing back and moaning wantonly, begging for it. A refined man in his office and about the town, Hannibal Lecter had no qualms with Will’s crass pleading in their bedroom.

Or, in this case, their new kitchen.

_Theirs_.

The word was still new to Will’s vocabulary, despite the length of their relationship. Hannibal had insisted on buying a house for them, citing the toll of the commute for both of them. Enough clothing and various necessities had been shuffled in between Wolf Trap and Baltimore on the weekends. They both deserved a stable, safe place to be with each other within the tumultuous lives they led.

Will’s only stipulations were the dogs, nearby water, and having enough land. Those parameters would definitely put them out of the city and the suburbs. 

His fears of moving forward in their relationship were much more extensive. They were unstoppable, intangible, stagnant clouds of dread that hung over his every day since he’d come to terms with Hannibal not only being the Chesapeake Ripper, but the Copycat. Despite the cases he had solved, and would solve, he could never bring the man he loved to justice. The thought of conjugal visits and Hannibal in a brightly colored jumpsuit was nightmarish. 

Will had caught six more serial killers before Hannibal had suggested house hunting. Only one of these had been found dead by Hannibal’s hands, although Will was the only person privy to this information. Each set of murders had become more difficult to look at.

It wasn’t the gore or the deep-seated feeling of obligation that made Will feel queasy. It was their lack of artistry. Waste of precious material, mistreatment of canvas, and the piss-poor presentation that the FBI was always left to clean up. Will struggled to differentiate himself from Hannibal when the pendulum swung. He would find familiar, calloused hands when searching for those of a stranger. When attempting to unravel a killer’s motive, his brain became foggy. He could only think of ways to fix the mess before him.

Will was afraid of a time when these desires to fix would become uncontrollable urges to create. He was terrified that moving in with Hannibal would accelerate this process.

When Will had reached the peak of his pleasure, he was grappling at Hannibal’s shoulder blades, trying to pull himself upright so that his erection was caught flush between their abdomens. He was attempting to mouth at the older man’s neck when he saw her.

A flash of red in the corner of the bay window, scurrying away. Will’s thoughts turned dark quickly, his nails sunk into tanned skin. Hannibal only gasped and grunted, teeth returning the favor on Will’s right shoulder. They were deep within the throes of passion, and Will wasn’t eager to stop. Hannibal waited to hunt down his prey, and Will would find the control in himself to do the same. He wouldn’t halt this consummation.

Will was pushing back on Hannibal’s cock, the countertop sliding against his back. He was trying to allow the other man more leverage, to force his cock in deeper. Hannibal had pulled away from Will’s shoulder to get a better look at the frantic desire painted across his lover’s face, a smear of blood remained on thin lips. Will let out a stunted moan at the sight--it only encouraged the bloodlust he felt from being spied upon. He crushed their lips together. 

Hannibal hadn’t touched Will’s cock yet, and the friction of their skin against it was not enough stimulation for Will to reach his end. When the hand came down to finally relieve him, Will lasted no longer than a few moments. His release spilled between their bodies and smeared when Hannibal continued his thrusts. The doctor gave a particularly deep, forceful movement and then laid himself across Will’s body as his dick spurted and twitched within the younger man.

Their chests heaved in tandem, a single body connected. When Will began to squirm from the restrictions on his breathing, Hannibal shifted off of him. Will was grateful for the much needed oxygen, but groaned at the feeling of emptiness that seated itself in his pelvic floor.

Hannibal procured a bottle of wine--Will couldn’t figure out where he’d gotten it from--and poured each of them a glass. “ I look forward to repeating this in all the other rooms of our home.”

Will snorted at the statement. While he’d taken Hannibal to be more of a romantic lover, there had been no shortage of libido between the two of them. Despite their relentless schedules and Hannibal’s proclivity for murder, operas, and gourmet cooking, sex always remained a high priority. Beverly hadn’t been hard to convince of the fact, claiming that she’d known the entire time.

“ I think we should aim to have everything unpacked first, Han.” 

Hannibal’s wink and accompanying smile were smug. The doctor knew that he would get his way. It had never failed before.

Will glanced at the bay window, with it’s lack of curtains, remembering the reason for his previous anger. He felt a wave of power move through his body, pushing away the post-orgasmic haze that fogged his mind. Previously, Will had prevented the news of their relationship from being released. Now he was forced to act once more to stop any harmful articles from popping up.

Will had attended events for Baltimore’s high society with Hannibal. He had been pictured in the newspaper with his lover, clean shaven and superficially sophisticated. On the inside, his social anxiety ran wild, imagination fueling the idea that people were whispering about him. Hannibal assured him that no one would speak negatively about him. The papers confirmed that. The articles had all been pleasant.

Nearly everyone that Will interacted with in the FBI was aware of their relationship. Sometimes, even local PD wondered aloud where his doctor boyfriend was. Hannibal often stopped by to drop off lunch, sit in his lectures, and visit the morgue. Will mostly cared solely for the opinions of his peers, but he did fear rumors about his personal life being spread by his students. As a professor, he was uncomfortable with the simple adoration that they afforded him when a serial killer was caught with his help. Will didn’t want his students to have any knowledge of his private life, let alone his sexual preferences.

Freddie would ensure that his reputation was once again on a downward spiral. Only this time, she would drag Hannibal down with him. And Will wasn’t about to allow that to happen.

“ I’m going to kill Freddie Lounds,” Will murmured thoughtfully as they were cleaning up the mess that had been made of the marble countertop. He laughed inwardly at his past fears. He was going to commit murder on the very day that he moved in with Hannibal. When catalyzed, his transformation hadn’t taken that long after all. 

Hannibal didn’t seem surprised. He raised a brow, but the smile that flickered across his face was enough to be considered approval. There were no warnings, no requests to be safe. Hannibal had faith in him, and that put Will at ease. This had been a long time coming.

His mind drifted back to a previous killer, one who had no consistency in his MO. He chose the same type of man--middle aged men who had lost jobs in the recession, working at minimum wage positions in order to provide for their family. The bodies had been left mutilated, no pattern or care taken with each wound. Will couldn’t get out of Hannibal’s mind.

One night, weeks into the case, Will had pleaded with Hannibal to know how he would’ve treated these men, what he would do differently. What organs would he take, what would he cook with them? He spewed endless questions concerning the doctor’s killing process, things that Will had never wanted to know about previously. He had worshipped Hannibal’s body while the older man moaned his answers in short puffs of air. Will was in awe of his lover’s power, his passion for true artwork.

Hannibal had killed the serial killer that evening. Will didn’t ask how he found him. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship.

Will felt himself being steadied with a hand to his shoulder. Hannibal was smiling at him. There was pride in his eyes. He turned away, heading to one of the boxes. Will saw that it was labelled _Cooking Utensils_ and grabbed the hem of the other man’s pants. “ I don’t need a knife, Han.”

“ You will use your gun?” Hannibal’s confidence in him had visibly faltered in that moment.

Will slid his hands up and down the older man’s sides, feeling each rib. He moved his fingers to grasp at the corded muscles in Hannibal’s biceps and smiled. “ I will do it with my hands.”

\---

Will found Freddie typing hurriedly. She was clearly thrilled with the pictures that had been taken just hours before. The one that sat to the left of the growing column of words contained Will, open mouthed in a moan as Hannibal slammed him against the fridge, kissing at his collar bones. Will’s shirt was gone, Hannibal’s pants were sagging about the waist, belt loose and zipper undone. 

“ I warned you, Freddie.” Will came out of the shadows, watching curls bounce as she swiveled about in her chair. Despite her crude profession, Freddie was a beautiful woman. Will could appreciate that.

Freddie’s skin grew pale and the muscles of her throat seized. She grappled at the keyboard wildly, trying to find something on her desk without breaking eye contact with her murderer-to-be. Perhaps she still thought that there was a chance for survival. When Will stepped forwards, her face fell and realization washed over her features. Will wondered if Hannibal saw the same symphony of reactions within his victims. 

When the life had faded from Freddie’s eyes, Will snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves before wiping and reformatting her hard drive; removing all photographs, the article that she had been working on, and any other incriminating evidence that would leave reason for motive. He carefully wiped his prints from the bruised skin of her neck. Will hadn’t wanted a barrier between their skin as he squeezed the life from Freddie.

Before creating his masterpiece, Will procured gifts for his lover. He hollowed out Freddie’s carcass, removing every organ, cutting the meat from her ribs. Her thoracic and abdominal cavities were left empty, only discernable by the flaccid diaphragm that separated them. Will’s stitches were haphazard, rather unclean, but his gutting of Freddie Lounds had been flawless.

Will adorned Freddie Lounds with every gaudy piece of clothing and jewelry that she owned. She was propped onto the desk chair, layers upon layers of fabric, metal, and gems making her body thick and stiff. He had removed each of her fingertips carefully, as well as the eye she typically used for gazing into the viewfinder of her camera. These objects were carefully arranged on the desk, each finger lined up perfectly next to each other. Will placed her notepad parallel, fountain pen arranged diagonally across the bright yellow paper. The eyeball came next, then the camera. Finally, he sat her gun down in line with the rest of her treasures. 

Presentation complete, Will searched for bleach within the rented room. There was a stacked washer and dryer in the corner of the kitchen, cleaning supplies placed on a shelf beside the machines. After dumping the corrosive liquid onto all electronics upon the desk, Will stepped back to survey the fruits of his labor.

What had previously been a sea of red before his eyes had turned into carefully organized destruction. Her body had been rendered preposterous and over the top, but completely devoid of substance; just as the articles that graced her website. _This is my design_

\---

Hannibal ravished him in the shower upon his return. Blood, sweat, and semen all washed away in the water. When Will had confronted Freddie in the past, Hannibal hadn’t pushed him for details. Now, the man growled questions into his ear, requesting to know how he’d killed her, what he had created, how it had felt. Will’s chest was pressed against the tiled wall, nails scrabbling for purchase as he cried out the details of his crime. 

With skin rubbed raw, the only evidence of Will’s evening activities was semen dripping down his thigh. 

Another room of the reasonably sized estate had been christened. Another enemy had been felled. Will felt a heavy satisfaction creeping through his bones. His legs were sore, hole stretched and aching, and arms tired from the manual labor. This day had brought about a monumental change, besides the obvious progression of their domestic relationship. Will had reached the pinnacle of what Hannibal had planned for him. 

Will was breaking, unassisted, out of the cocoon that had been spun for him. 

Hannibal was looking down at him with unfiltered adoration, his eyes completely unguarded. “ What shall we have for dinner, love?”


	16. The Darkest Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal attempts to guide Will through the aftermath of killing Freddie Lounds while a new serial killer comes between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has been taking me so long :( I can't guarantee that the next chapter will be any quicker, but hopefully you guys are still enjoying the story!
> 
> Also, wow, this is a long one! It makes up for the smaller previous chapter, and hopefully my Hannibal POV is still up to par.
> 
> Tayoann, my beta, is basically the only reason this fic exists in such quality. She has been such a wonderful sounding board for my ideas, and a great help to me! Any remaining mistakes are mine alone, because she is seriously a goddess when it comes to grammar.
> 
> Enjoy <3

  
_"And it’s the darkest side of my heart that dies when you come to me_   
_And it’s the golden ticket I win when you kill my enemies_   
_I hear the farthest cry and the softest sigh when I’m empty_   
_But if you leave me I’ll get me gone and drown face down muddy in the water"_   
\--The Darkest Side, The Middle East   


The house sat on the edge of a reservoir, with a few neighbors. The lawn was lush and spacious, surrounded with a tall, brick wall to prevent the dogs from wandering from their property. At least, that was the reasoning that Hannibal had given Alana as she admired the wrought iron detail of the gate. He and Will both desired some amount of privacy in their lives.

The building itself was situated nearly a quarter of a mile back from the court, the paved driveway lined with alternating cherry blossom trees and shrubbery. Will had suggested landscaping together as a hobby. Hannibal wasn’t about to hire a company, but he also couldn’t picture himself mowing the acre of grass anytime soon. Will would talk him into getting his hands dirty with soil yet. It was only fair.

The town was an hour away from Baltimore, almost two from Quantico with bad traffic. However, it was a sacrifice that Hannibal had under control. Will was still employed by the FBI, lecturing three times a week, but his presence was not entirely necessary in every case that landed upon Jack Crawford’s desk. 

“ I am an adult, Hannibal. I can take whatever cases that Jack throws at me.” 

“ But I wish you wouldn’t,” Hannibal murmured, coming round the kitchen island to place his hand atop Will’s. He moved the digits away from the manila folder and pulled the young man up from his place at the counter and towards the stove. It was a new case that Jack had sent home with Will Friday afternoon. Hannibal had done his best to keep the young man busy since the weekend had begun. He was hesitant to watch his lover fall back into the mind of another killer so quickly. “ I have sacrificed the frequency of my appearance in Baltimore’s high society. Would you not give up this harmful hobby of yours?”

“ I save people’s lives, Han. It’s not the same. You can’t compare the two.” Will allowed Hannibal to guide his hands, showing him how to flip the crepes in the pan properly.

“ Do you feel more obligated to save these people, now that you’ve killed?” Hannibal’s tone, while curious, was meant to elicit emotion. Immediately after the kill, righteous satisfaction and powerful confidence had wafted from his lover’s body. It was a strong scent, one unfamiliar on Will. Now, Hannibal could not read Will’s emotions on the murder. A small part of him worried that Will would throw himself back into casework for some hope of redemption. Hannibal knew well that his lover would not find absolution, only more death. Perhaps provoking Will was the only way for them to have this conversation. 

Will shot him a dirty look, but Hannibal’s gaze didn’t waver. They were still waiting for the inevitable fallout of Will’s actions. 

They had been in the new house for a week. When Will brought him such a divine gift, Hannibal had been rendered speechless. After almost a year together, acceptance had become enough for Hannibal. Will never complained when they ate meat that Hannibal had hunted down. He did not question Hannibal’s ethics. Instead, the young man simply accepted that Hannibal’s habits were a part of their life together. Hannibal was happy with his lover, so he did not push. He would not pry at the crack in Will’s psyche. He wouldn’t betray Will by coercing him into Hannibal’s habits. Will wasn’t like the swill that they ate for dinner, he wasn’t on the same level of those like Jack, Alana, and some of his peers. Those beings received a modicum of respect. Will deserved the world. He deserved everything that Hannibal hadn’t been able to provide for his previous charge.

Hannibal suddenly found that despite his lack of active intervention, his original plans for Will had been realized. His lover had returned looking nearly the same from his kill, a single drop of blood spatter left above the collar of his shirt. There was skin under his fingernails that had to be cleaned out, but the cleansing of Will’s body had been paired with a darkening of his soul. Will’s transformation had not been caused manipulation by Hannibal alone. It was a beautiful moment in their relationship.

Hannibal could recall the joy he had felt shortly after murdering and dismembering Mischa’s killers. He also remembered the way that he had slept that night, shaking and sweating, flashes of bloody limbs appearing behind closed eyes. It had taken weeks for the nightmares to stop, for the young boy he had been to rebuild the walls of his fortress. 

He worried for Will. The profiler was stronger than the fragile china that Jack Crawford pictured him to be. Despite that strength, the empathy was a debilitating trait. Hannibal could ground Will in the moment, provide him a safe place within their home, but he could not force Will to take advantage of the sanctuary that was offered to him. 

In the past, when the cases got hard, Will retreated. He spent more time with his dogs and made far too many lures. Hannibal was almost curious as to how these habits would change with their living situation. When the chance to observe Will’s coping mechanisms presented itself, Hannibal found it difficult to observe the situation from the viewpoint of a concerned partner. Hannibal was always tempted to make a few key plays and then step back to watch the result of his toying. But Will was not a pawn. Will was an equal, now more than ever.

Hannibal’s mind wandered as he guided Will’s movements with pure muscle memory. The pan rattled against the stove, bringing him back to the moment. He couldn’t steady the other man’s hands.

“ Will?”

The pan clattered down to the ceramic stove top mid-flip, and Will freed himself from the cage of Hannibal’s arms. The doctor could hear the slap of his calloused feet against the wooden floor, the _crack_ of one of the French doors shutting. Will was fleeing. 

Despite Will’s typical defensive tactics of sarcasm, he hadn’t been able to shut out the weight of the truth. Normally, the glare would’ve been the end of this conversation. Hannibal’s attempt at analyzation would be lost.

Belatedly, Hannibal realized that Will had probably been ruminating on the words since they had first been spoken. Will had never been good at clutching to normalcy, and had quickly spiraled downward into a panic attack.

Hannibal clicked off the heat, set the hot pan aside on a trivet, and made his way outside. Will was in the dew-damp grass, curled in upon himself. His legs were bare, silken curls the only visible part of his head between shaking knees. Hannibal watched as the man curled his toes in the damp mud. Will glanced up briefly at the dogs that were chasing each other throughout the yard when one of them yipped.

“ I’m sorry,” Hannibal murmured as he squatted beside his lover. While nearly all of his apologies were half-hearted or false, they remained sincere when offered to Will. “ I should not have taunted you. Your emotions are not mine to play with.”

“ Aren’t they?” Will’s voice was wounded, dripping with defensive sarcasm, and he shied away from Hannibal’s body. He was afraid of the answer to this question.

Will looked truly hurt, and Hannibal felt a sharp stab of guilt sear through his gut. Here was another emotion reserved for the empath alone. He saw tears that threatened to fall, a twitch to Will’s lips, still reddened from their kissing that morning. His shoulders trembled, and Hannibal reached out to steady them. 

“ Only as mine are yours. You hold my heart, William. I never wish to hurt you.”

“ Sometimes wishes don’t come true.” The words were harsh, sharp. Hannibal thought he could see Abigail’s face in Will’s eyes.

Hannibal dropped to his knees in the mud and tilted Will’s chin up, bringing their eyes level. His lover’s glasses were askew, eyes bright like ice in the morning light. “ You killed Freddie Lounds for us, Will. You killed her so that my reputation would not be hurt, so our relationship would not be slandered. I love you for that. I love you for how you protect me--us. Not for killing. I would love you if you had not murdered her. I would go on loving you if you never kill anyone again. This does not change how I feel about you. Will Graham, I--”

Will let out a sob, pressing his face into the soft fabric of Hannibal’s shirt. The doctor was overcome himself, wrapping his body around Will’s frame. When the young man was upset, he seemed much smaller. Hannibal was always caught off guard by the way Will fell apart in front of him. Whether it was anguish or pleasure, Will never allowed the extent of his emotions to be seen fully by anyone except for Hannibal. Hannibal wrapped one arm possessively about the man’s shoulders, another under his knees, pulling Will closer in a bridal-style hold: A mimicry of how he’d carried Will away from the wreckage of his car over a year ago.

As the shaking of Will’s body began to subside, Hannibal pulled his head from where it was tucked protectively beside Will’s. He looked carefully at his young lover, wiping away stray tears with long fingers and fixing his glasses with care. “ Talk to me, Will.”

It had rained the night before, and the smell of earth was all around them, the cool breeze moving through the thin material of their pajamas. Will shivered, and Hannibal couldn’t be sure if it was from the crying or the cold. “ Do you wish to go in? Get some coffee?”

Will’s lower lip trembled, but he nodded. Hannibal wondered what visions and images that Will had recalled--he was certain that the man’s sobs had not been elicited by Hannibal’s proclamation. Hannibal had anticipated that Will would react intensely once he felt the reality of his actions. He had been prepared for days. 

Hannibal carried Will inside noting that Will was clutching his shirt, burying his face deeply in the crook of the older man’s neck. Will’s breathing consisted of deep inhales, followed by sharp, shallow exhales. He was trying to breathe in Hannibal.

They sat at the island and sipped coffee over the crepes that were still warm. Will didn’t eat. Hannibal wouldn’t push him.

Will had to process his own darkness. Hannibal had helped build the framework, but he could not be Will’s guide any longer. The empath would need to get through this on his own terms. He had to find his own way. Hannibal would not attempt to influence him. Those days were long gone.

“ You will need some time, Will. I know that I have been unkind in the past. However, I will support you in any way that you feel necessary. I will not decide your path.” 

It was not easy, seeing Will so silent and reserved. They spent so much time together and Will was typically the more talkative of the two. He kept their dinner conversations light, cooing at the dogs in the background while Hannibal read, and sometimes he even heard the man singing in the shower. Will’s voice was a part of Hannibal’s everyday. 

And maybe, just maybe, Will wouldn’t become silent, as Hannibal had. Maybe if Hannibal was here for him, could provide enough support for him, Will would thrive. 

Things were better for Will, Hannibal was sure of it. The young man would never be alone in the woods. Hannibal was able to give him a safe place, and he would ensure that these conditions remained stable. 

Will stared at the manila folder that had been left behind in his hurry. Before he could open it, Hannibal took the young man’s hand, brought it to his lips. He wouldn’t prevent Will from taking the case if it was going to help.

After Freddie’s body was found, Jack had been quick to call it the Ripper. The display and surgical trophies were too alluring for Crawford, who wanted to see the Ripper behind bars. Thankfully, Will wasn’t alone in his assertion that it was another killer. The surgical prowess of the Ripper was absent, and Zeller was quick to point it out. Will allowed the forensics team to decipher the scene. He later told Hannibal about how he just stood there in the room for five minutes while the team left--the pendulum hadn’t swung. There was no need to empathize with oneself.

Jack was forced to revise his opinion, calling it the Copycat. Will agreed--it was _a_ copycat. The scene had been clean. There was no new information, and they shelved the case within a few days.

And yet, Will seemed disturbed by the cardstock that rested under his drumming fingers. He opened the folder and Will shook his head. Hannibal’s eyebrows furrowed and he began to open his mouth.

“ I know it’s not you,” Will murmured, spreading the glossy photos over the island that Hannibal had cleared of dishes. “ Look, they’re all dulled down. Like looking through a filter.”

Will was never going to stay silent. Hannibal stared at him, watching his jaw work, his adam’s apple bob. The relief that he felt at the man’s voice was short lived when he glanced back down to the photos.

Murders from years before were being recreated. _His_ murders. There were four depicted.

“ How many?”

“ Six thus far, over three months.” Will’s voice sounded distant. He sounded lost, like he had when they had first met. Hannibal wrapped an arm around the empath’s waist, grounding him.

“ Why are you just now getting the file? Uncle Jack is typically more demanding of your presence on cases like these.” Hannibal was perturbed. Was Will refusing cases for him?

“ They just now put it together. All of the murders were in different states. New York, Vermont, South Carolina, West Virginia...he keeps moving. He’s impressed by you. He wants...he wants you to notice him.” Will shook his head, a frown across his lips.

It was easier this way, with Will focused. Perhaps reflecting on the Ripper cases would enable Will to sort through his own desires.

“ Well, now I have noticed. What are we going to do about this man?” Hannibal could think of many things to do about it. He would find this admirer, and deal with him. 

His paintings were perfection as they were. The thought of replications made Hannibal bristle, and he briefly wondered how the master painters of old could allow the endless copying of their own work.

“ This is not your fight, Hannibal. Jack needs this,” Will stopped, the words on his lips. “ I need this.”

Will needed to catch this imitation Ripper. He needed to do what he never could with Hannibal. He needed to feel like a profiler again, not a murderer.

Despite his reservations, Hannibal could allow it. He felt the urge to cancel his appointments with future patients, travel with Will to these crime scenes. He wished to see for himself this subpar artwork, while simultaneously protecting his lover. Hannibal was making plans, estimating the length of the case when Will’s voice drifted into his conscience again.

“ I don’t want you in on this, Han. This guy obviously has some sort of connection to you. I can’t...I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to do anything rash. I know how you feel about your...work.” 

Hannibal smiled sweetly down at his lover, resting his chin upon Will’s shoulder. If he didn’t think that the case would help Will, Hannibal would intervene subtly. However, he wouldn’t interrupt such an obvious chance for Will to regain his sense of self. Hannibal had meant it, when he said earlier that his love for Will did not depend on the man’s desire to kill again.

“ All right, Will. I am here, if you ever need assistance.”

\---

The concept of always being physically there for Will was still a new one. Hannibal found himself smiling stupidly when he woke beside the other man in the morning. There would be no return to Wolf Trap, no trek back to Baltimore after hasty goodbyes. Hannibal was aware of the much needed stability that this transition provided for Will. He hadn’t accounted for the joy that he would obtain.

He rose first, letting out the dogs and brewing coffee. Quiche Lorraine was baking in the oven when Will came down the stairs, announcing his presence with a yawn. Hannibal shook his head when he saw the red cashmere sweater hanging on Will’s frame, blue boxers peeking out from below the hem. “ Too lazy to get a new shirt?”

“ Smells like you,” Will mumbled against the rim of his coffee cup. He was clearly still tired. The previous night, Will had been exhausted from his emotional outburst. They had retired before ten. Hannibal had read a novel in the soft glow of the dim lights. Before turning in, he’d taken off the red sweater, half-heartedly folding the fabric and setting it on the armchair in the corner of the room.

After removing their breakfast from the oven, Hannibal cut wedges out and placed them on small plates with a garnish of citrus fruit. Will seemed to have drunk his sleepiness away. Hannibal kissed his cheek and rubbed his palm over the small of Will’s back before sitting beside him on the island. “ You could be a teenage girl, stealing my clothing like that.”

Will stuck his tongue out at him before taking a bite of breakfast. Hannibal loved to watch the man’s jaw work, the swallowing motion of his throat. “ Mm,” his lover agreed, downing his bite with another gulp of coffee. “ Or, I could just love you. Cynical old man.”

“ Old man?,” Hannibal snorted, chuckling lightly. “ Watch it, gold digger. I’ll cut your allowance.”

Will seemed momentarily shocked by Hannibal’s use of slang, but shook the idea away. Sure, Hannibal was refined, but he wasn’t stupid. 

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Will offered to do the dishes, allowing Hannibal to make sure the dogs’ food and water bowls were full before letting the pack back inside. The older man was just about to start drying dishes when Will’s phone went off. It had been left on the kitchen counter the night before, forgotten in their eagerness to be near one another.

“ Get that, Han?” Will’s arms were covered with soap and warm water up to the elbow.

Hannibal checked the caller ID before accepting the call. He knew that Will would be swept off to another crime scene, but hadn’t expected it to be so soon. The killer was becoming desperate for his attention.

“ Good morning, Jack. I apologize, Will insisted on doing the breakfast dishes. No, of course not. He shouldn’t be long now. I’ll have him call you back as soon as he finishes. Yes, you will have to come and visit soon. All right, Jack. Good bye.”

When Hannibal hung up and glanced back at where Will was washing the last dish, he saw the smallest glint of fear in blue eyes. “ You do not have to call him back until you are ready.”

“ I know,” Will said. His words were forced. Hannibal placed his hand at the small of his lover’s back, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. He wasn’t thrilled about Will leaving either. It could only be a day, or as long as a week depending on the competence of local PD. 

Hannibal thought he could do something to distract Will for the time being.

“ Would you like to do something else?” Hannibal’s voice was tinged with suggestion.

Will gave a small smile, though his eyes were still sad. He didn’t want to leave. Living together had put them into the puppy love stage that they’d never experienced. Hannibal was loathe to wake up in the morning without the smell of Will’s sweat, the warm expanse of his lover’s back pressed against his own front.

“ Let me have you, Hannibal.” Will turned in Hannibal’s arms. One of his hands moved to Hannibal’s side, running his fingertips adoringly over the skin. In the past few months, Hannibal had been the one to take initiative. Will desired affection, needed to be comforted and comforted like an animal. Hannibal had been happy to provide. Fucking Will made him feel powerful, in control of their relationship. It assured him that no matter how hard the cases were on Will, the profiler would always be his.

Will needed that same reassurance now. Even though this serial killer was trying to garner Hannibal’s attention, the older man would always belong to Will alone. 

“ I am yours, Will,” Hannibal whispered into the Will’s neck, pressing soft kisses to the thin expanse of skin littered with the remnants of hickeys. “ Yours to take whenever you want.”

Will’s throat rumbled beneath Hannibal’s lips. “Bedroom,” he muttered, fingertips working down to Hannibal’s ass. Compared to Hannibal’s hands, Will’s were rough with work. They left a subtle itch upon his skin.

Hannibal walked away from his lover, allowing his hips to sway. Will didn’t immediately follow. When he got to their bedroom, Hannibal began to undress. He untied the string about his pants and let the fabric fall to the ground. Hannibal could allow the mess for his lover. Will felt more comfortable nesting than he did with all of the harsh edges of Hannibal’s folded clothes. 

When Will came into the room, his eyes roamed over Hannibal’s bare body. They were both standing, on a level playing field despite their different states of undress. Will would’ve pushed him down eventually, so Hannibal sat. Will didn’t need to force him, Hannibal was more than happy to oblige his lover. The power play was subtle, but it would boost Will’s confidence. Hannibal needed to use all these tricks. He needed to feel like he was giving Will all the support he could before the empath left.

“ Yours,” Hannibal reminded him, when Will leaned down to kiss him. He allowed himself to be pushed back against the mattress. Will was grappling at his skin, trying to map out and memorize all of the muscles in Hannibal’s body. The cool air of the room was being warmed from their bodies, the smell of sweat and the beginnings of arousal permeating Hannibal’s nostrils. Will stood abruptly. Hannibal was sure that his hair was sticking up, he could feel his torso shining in the light of the sunrise.

“ No matter how far apart we are,” Hannibal assured him, finishing his thought now that his lips were free.

Will divested himself of the sweater, boxers, and fell back upon Hannibal. He wondered how he had found such joy before Will’s lips were a daily promise. How had he observed beauty without seeing it reflected in Will’s eyes? With eyes closed, Hannibal found the dimples at the small of Will’s back with his fingertips. He teased the skin there with his hands, and Will’s mouth with his own. 

“ I’m going to fuck you, Hannibal.” Will’s voice was emotional, lust and sadness mingled together.

A slickened finger was at Hannibal’s entrance, pressing in deeply. He pressed his hips upwards, grunting in agreement and pleasure. 

Will only prepped him with two fingers. Hannibal winced when he felt the head of his lover’s cock replacing them. “ Mark me,” he hissed, and Will pushed in with one, long stroke. Hannibal let out a guttural moan. Being impaled on Will’s cock was a fulfilling experience--he felt stretched, pushed to his limits. For Will, Hannibal would allow himself to be spread to the end of the world. With Will, he was complete.

Hannibal cried because for the first time, he was afraid of what this case would bring to Will. Once, Hannibal had envisioned Will’s death by his own hands. He could only hope that this copycat was not emulating that portion of his former personality.

Will’s hand cupped his left cheek, brushing away a tear with one thumb. “ I will take care of us. Of you,” he promised, folding Hannibal more fully. The older man felt his thighs pressed against his own stomach, his ankles knocking against Will’s neck.

How the world would be stunned to know that the Chesapeake Ripper allowed himself to be fucked into the mattress as long as it soothed his lover.

“ You’re mine, Hannibal.” Will’s words were a prayer, whispered against Hannibal’s neck. Teeth sunk into the fevered flesh, blood ran down to pool in Hannibal’s clavicle. Will’s tongue lapped the viscous, warm fluid from his skin. “ Nobody can deny it. Fucking moaning on my cock, begging me to mark your skin, fill you up with my cum. I’ll be gone, but I’ll be all over you. In you.”

The words weren’t what Hannibal had expected. Will enjoyed whispering crude phrases to Hannibal sometimes, before they fucked. Now, his tone was fraught with desperation and worry. Will knew that Hannibal was his. He was just terrified of losing him.

The fear was mutual.

Will’s thrusts grew rough, erratic. He came with a stunted moan, spilling half inside of Hannibal and pulling out to let the rest coat his thighs. 

Hannibal forced his eyes open at the sensation, sure that there was no more spectacular sight than Will Graham orgasming, with his body as the sole cause. He memorized the image for later, to sketch while his lover was away. 

Fully prepared to clean off and allow Will to resume his day feeling sure of himself, Hannibal was surprised when the man slunk down his body. Will wrapped his lips around Hannibal’s cock. He didn’t last long--mind saturated with emotion, body with desire.

“ I love you, Will,” Hannibal panted, the pleasure leaving his body with the last spurt of semen down his lover’s throat. 

Will crawled up to Hannibal’s chest, and the older man sighed happily at the comforting weight of his lover’s head. Hannibal ran a hand through Will’s dark, sweaty curls. The remnants of their fucking were left inside as the evidence of their love for one another. 

“I--I’m going to miss you.” Hannibal felt his lips moving, but didn’t know how the words managed to escape the confines of his mind. Sure, the thoughts had wandered around his head since Jack had called. As much as this might help the profiler’s confidence, Hannibal didn’t want to appear weak to Will. 

Will looked up at him, holding eye contact. “ I won’t be gone long.” 

“ The dogs don’t listen to me when I try to get them out of the kitchen,” Hannibal smiled against Will’s hair. “ We need you here, Will.”

“ Give them more sausage,” Will laughed, placing kisses amongst the coarse curls on his skin.

They spent the next hour kissing, joking about how Hannibal was adjusting to being a stepdad to the dogs. While Will’s possessions were few, Hannibal’s boxes had been extensive. The kitchen was the first room to be completely unpacked, while books still laid unshelved in the office and clothing unhung in the bedroom. Despite Hannibal’s valiant attempts to fuck in every room, most of their free time was spent making the new house into a home. Hannibal knew that he wouldn’t unpack any boxes while Will was gone. This was a project for the two of them. Even though Will wasn’t likely to step foot into the office, Hannibal wanted to ensure that his lover at least felt comfortable in the space.

Will was teasing Hannibal about rearranging all of his books when the sound of his phone could be heard resonating from the kitchen. A frown worked its way upon Will’s lips, replacing the light-hearted laugh. Their home was removed from the city, but Will couldn’t escape the troubles of his job.

“ Jack’ll be pissed if he has to call three times.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement, rolling onto his side and then sitting up. He watched with a smile as Will pulled the sweater back on and went down the stairs. Will picked up shortly after the fourth ring. 

With the low tone of Will’s voice as a melody from the floor below, Hannibal began to pack a bag for his lover. He put away enough underwear, socks, and undershirts for a week. As much as Hannibal adored dressing his lover, he packed all of Will’s favorite, comfortable clothing. A few plaid shirts, khakis, and corduroys. On top of all the clothing, Hannibal placed another sweater. It was his own. The fabric was just as soft as the one that Will had currently stolen, blue and tailored. Before packing it, Hannibal sprayed some of his cologne on it.

A body had been found in southern Delaware, far enough to warrant flying. Jack had been frustrated by the amount of time it had taken Will to “do the dishes”. Will was ready to leave within the hour. Hannibal drove to the airport, but neither of them spoke. They’d exhausted all of their feel-good stories and mindless chatter while lying in bed together. Hannibal placed a bottle of diazepam into Will’s briefcase, shouldered the man’s duffel bag while they transversed the open area. 

Hannibal stood by a window, watching as Will checked in, weighing his bags and smiling weakly at the attendant. Will came over to him, an easy air of confidence in the steps. “ I love you, Han.”

They walked towards security. Will had around half an hour until his flight began to board, more than enough time to get through TSA and make his way to the terminal. Will began to take of his shoes and remove his jacket when Hannibal stopped him with a touch to the stubbled jaw. “ I love you too, Will. Call me when you get there?”

“ Of course. Delaware isn’t far, but I don’t think I can call until tonight, after I...look.” Will tried to smile, but Hannibal cut it off with a kiss. It was chaste, nothing like the passionate petting they’d done before leaving the Bentley. But Hannibal savored the taste of toothpaste, and deep below that, his own semen. 

“ Be safe, dear.”

Will fixed his glasses and nodded, leaving before Hannibal changed his mind and hauled both of them back to their house.

\---  
Hannibal had tracked Will’s flight with the airline’s website as he shelved medical glossaries. After it landed, he sent Will a quick text and decided to take a break from his leather-bound tomes.

After making a light dinner for himself and providing raw meat for the dogs, Hannibal sat outside. He was contemplating planting a vegetable garden near the patio, lessening their need to make trips into town. All of the dogs except for Winston were running the length of the yard. Winston sat by Hannibal, seemingly glancing at the cell phone as much as he was. Hannibal scratched the speckled, brown fur of the dog’s chest idly. 

When Hannibal’s phone vibrated noisily upon the ornate glass tabletop, he nearly dropped it trying to accept the call. There was a faint, crackily “Hannibal,” before he put it on speakerphone. Maybe Winston would find some comfort in the distorted sound of Will’s voice as well.

“ Hey, Will. How is the case coming? Are you at the hotel?” Hannibal was eager to know what exactly the copycat was doing now. He needed to make sure that Will was safe.

It took him an embarrassingly three full seconds to realize that Will was muffling sobs. 

“ Will? Talk to me, Will. Please.”

“ He...He, oh god Hannibal. He killed a girl, she looked just fucking like Abby, and it was all the _same_ , Hannibal. She had--her throat, it was cut.” Will’s voice was becoming more controlled, but it sounded hollow. Hannibal wished so badly that he could be there to ground his lover, to bring him back to what was important. This killer would be found, Will always found them, but Hannibal couldn’t let Jack break him. “ He left a hole where her heart was, just like Abigail, but I wasn’t in it. It was you. You were in there. There was a picture of you, from the Society pages. Hannibal, I don’t know what he’s going to do next. I can’t get in his head, they’re too similar. I need you to--fuck, Jack wants me back. They’ve got an ID on the girl. I have to go, I love you Hannibal. Please, please don’t do anything stupid.” 

Will hung up before Hannibal could return the sentiment. Winston whimpered and put his paws over his muzzle.

\---  
It had been three days since Will left. Hannibal was expecting him home either tonight or tomorrow. Jack had acknowledged that they would find no further information in Delaware. They would have to wait for the next kill. 

Hannibal was pulling a marinated tenderloin from the refrigerator when he heard the creak of a floorboard. None of the dogs were heavy enough for such strain.

“ I’ve been expecting you.”

He turned to looked at the man who had been giving his lover such trouble. This copycat, who truly did not admire Hannibal. He was after Will.

Hannibal had been absolutely positive that by keeping this information from Will, he could keep the empath safe in Delaware. The killer had left Hannibal’s picture for a reason. He was attempting to remove Hannibal from Will’s heart. He wanted to replace the doctor. Hannibal had also been confident that he could disable and slowly murder the man. He would serve most of his flesh to the BAU and destroy the heart. However, no part of that killer would ever be placed between his lover’s lips.

Since Hannibal had anticipated this visit, he was confident that he knew exactly how this encounter would play out. If the killer was emulating Hannibal, they would play their mind games. They would exchange words, and eventually compete for dominance. 

Will Graham had been the only person thus far in Hannibal’s life to catch him off guard, but this killer was passionate. The emotion disrupted the trajectory that Hannibal had predicted. He lunged at Hannibal mid-turn, and pierced his upper thigh with a needle. Hannibal’s eyes widened in confusion, feeling his body start to drop heavily.

Hannibal’s expectations had been thoroughly shattered. When he finally looked into the eyes of his copycat, he made a more shocking discovery--he found someone who loved Will as fiercely as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also here is my [Tumblr](http://lemonscientist.tumblr.com) if you guys are interested in my ramblings and need some more Hannibal on your dash <3


	17. Set Fire To The Third Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will discovers that Hannibal has been abducted. The killer, however, is sloppy, and the boys are reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this is a long time coming! This chapter is currently unbeta'd, but might get a make over in the future. 
> 
> This story is now winding down. There will be two chapters left by my plan (just so you're aware). If anyone has something they want to see, let me know now :)
> 
> Thank you all for seeing this through

  
_”I find the map and draw a straight line_   
_Over rivers, farms, and state lines_   
_The distance from 'A' to where you'd be_   
_It's only finger-lengths that I see_   
_I touch the place where I'd find your face_   
_My fingers in creases of distant dark places”_   
[\--Set The Fire To The Third Bar, Snow Patrol ft. Martha Wainwright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfa9yxCpWoA)   


“ Hannibal!” Will bounded through the front door, happily greeting the dogs. He had tried to call his lover and let him know that his plane was going to come in very late. After three attempts to make contact before his flight, Will gave up, figuring that Hannibal was either asleep already or planning some ridiculous meal.

He stepped inside the foyer and crossed to the kitchen, but there were no delectable aromas to permeate his nose. When the dogs rushed at him, yipping in a demanding manner, Will glanced at their bowls. They hadn’t been fed dinner. He moved to fill their bowls with kibble from the pantry, but a foul smell caught his attention as he passed by the oven. When Will opened it, he found a dutch oven with a half-trussed tenderloin inside. There were vegetables layered around it, but the meat was cold and beginning to smell. It hadn’t been cooked. 

One of Hannibal’s recipe cards was tucked underneath the meat. 

Will felt a heavy drop in his stomach. He was glad that he hadn’t picked the dish up from the oven rack. The ceramic would’ve shattered in his haste to get upstairs, to make sure that Hannibal was still here, _somewhere_ , in the house. When Will got to the second landing, he was hesitant to approach the door to their bedroom that was cracked open. Will strained his ears for the sound of his lover’s breathing, the rustle of sheets, something that would reassure him. Something that would make it so that he wouldn’t have to tear through the house searching for Hannibal, to impede the growing panic that was rising in his throat.

Will knew that he wouldn’t find Hannibal. His lover would’ve never left a meal unfinished. It wouldn’t matter how long Will spent looking, how thoroughly he would comb their home. When he was in Delaware, the killer had come to their home, and taken Hannibal.

He dialed Jack instead of forcing himself inside the bedroom. This was just another crime-scene, but he couldn’t make himself look.

“ Will?” Jack’s voice was muddled by exhaustion. They’d just returned, he was no doubt trying to recover from jet lag. Will would’ve been doing the same if his world hadn’t been turned upside down.

“ Hannibal...he’s gone. I think our killer was here. Hannibal’s been abducted.”

\---

Will felt detached from his body as FBI swarmed his home. He sat outside in the backyard, watching the dogs. If he only could keep his eyes trained on the balls of fur running about, he didn’t have to look inside at the mess that had been made of his homecoming. 

He hadn’t looked at the recipe card. There was surely something important about that specific card, maybe even a message left on there. After he called Jack, Will had let the dogs out and sat down on the edge of the deck. He didn’t move when Jack came into his house--the door had been left unlocked. Will didn’t dare look as CSI and forensics scoured their kitchen.

It was well past two in the morning now and Alana was sitting beside him on the porch, drinking coffee and making light conversation. Will hadn’t taken a word away from what she’d said, it was like listening to static.

How had Hannibal been caught off guard? Will always knew his lover to be ten steps ahead of everyone else. He must have been preparing dinner when the killer had entered their home, based on the half-finished prep-work that had been laid in the oven. Will couldn’t reconstruct the scene in his head--he didn’t want to.

“ Will?” Jack’s voice rumbled over him like a storm brewing in the distance. Will felt anticipation rising in his throat. He jumped up from his place on the wood. It was the first movement he’d made in hours. 

“ What did you find? Who is he?” Will knew he sounded frantic and desperate. There were too many things that had gone wrong already--he should have seen this coming after finding Hannibal’s picture in the previous victim’s body. What if the killer had figured out that Hannibal was the Ripper? He’d already put together that the Ripper and the Copycat were the same person.

Jack led Will back inside. They stepped up to the island, where the recipe card was in an evidence bag. Beverly gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before moving over to where Brian and Jimmy were trying to look busy. No one knew how to comfort Will Graham. Hannibal had been the one to provoke such a change in Will, allow him to feel comfortable in his own skin. In his absence, Will felt untethered, floating out to sea. There was no hand-holds, nothing to grasp for and he was terrified that he’d never see the shore again.

The clear bag was pushed towards him, and Will flipped the card over. The recipe wasn’t important, he knew that now. This killer was straight forward. Hannibal’s work was laden with metaphors, but this guy only wanted to make one point.

_I’ve admired you from afar for years, Mr. Graham. You’re beautiful in mind and body. I hope that you’ve seen all of my gifts in person. This one will prove my love for you._

Will pushed the evidence away from himself and ran to the bathroom where he vomited the coffee he’d been sipping on for the last few hours. This killer already considered Hannibal to be another gift--another death. He sunk to the tiled floor, burying his face between his knees as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

He became hyper-aware of his surroundings. The tile was cold and Will could hear hesitant footsteps that approached the bathroom doorway and then retreated. He could smell the acrid aroma of his own vomit. When he looked up, Will saw Alana through blurry eyes. His glasses were smudged with tears, so he took them off when she came to crouch beside him, flushing the toilet on her way down. 

“ We’ll find him, Will.” 

The question of whether they would find Hannibal dead or alive hung heavy in the air. 

\---

The sun came up and brought with it a sense of foreboding. Will wondered how long he had to figure this out--how long Hannibal had to live. 

With the FBI out of his house, Will made himself busy by cleaning the mess left behind in his kitchen. Jack wouldn’t allow him to return to Quantico--not until they had a tangible lead to go off of. Alana had apparently been assigned support duty. She hovered about him with the persistence of a gnat, but Will didn’t know what task to give her. He could barely remember where Hannibal had put the cleaning supplies. 

Eventually, Alana had taken to watching him from the sitting room. Their house was open, like Will’s had been in Wolf Trap. Hannibal had acknowledged that the spacious layout would be easier for the dogs to navigate, and allow him to keep an eye on their household from the comfort of the kitchen. From her place in a wingback arm-chair, Alana watched Will scrubbing scuff marks from the wooden floors. She let him continue on for an hour before interrupting his third wash of a certain area. 

“ Will, it’s clean. You’ve cleaned it.” 

He looked up at her with unshed tears in his eyes. “ I should have come home earlier. If I would’ve been home, the killer could have taken me instead. He wants me, but he doesn’t have to kill Hannibal. I shouldn’t have stayed in Delaware for so long, we knew he wasn’t there, but I didn’t know he would be here, I didn’t know he would come to our house, that he would take--” Will was working himself up into a fit, slowly rising to his feet as his breathing became erratic. He gripped the kitchen countertop with one hand, Alana’s shoulder with another as he began to hyperventilate, sobs puffing out in between the rushed inhales. “ My fault,” he cried, shaking his head as Alana moved to pull his body against her much smaller one. 

Will dropped like dead-weight when she pushed him onto a couch, rustling up a bag for him to regulate his breathing into. 

Alana sat beside Will after his episode subsided. Her presence was warm, but her frame was small. Will longed for broad shoulders and lips that were only a few inches above his own, waiting to be kissed. Those were the qualities he’d been looking forward to greeting again after being gone for a week. Despite his empathy, he’d failed to see this outcome. An empty house had waited for him and Hannibal was God knows where, suffering. 

“ I should have seen this coming. When I found his picture, I should have seen the killer’s intention.” Will was angry with himself. His words left through gritted teeth.

Alana brought a hand to his knee, rubbing small, gentle circles over the rough denim. “ You have pure empathy, Will. You’re not a psychic. This is not your fault.”

Will thought he could actually detect the progression of Alana’s voice from coherency to static in his mind as she continued to murmur soothing phrases. Soon, he could no longer feel the weight of the cushion supporting his body, the small fingertips that gave reassuring pressure to his flesh through his pants. His mind drifted away from the reality of this day.

He remembered lying in bed with Hannibal before he’d left for his flight. How they had laughed together, the way that Will’s head fit perfectly on top of Hannibal’s chest. The hair that tickled his nose when his lover inhaled. Hannibal had submitted so beautifully to him that morning, had allowed Will to claim him before the empath was drawn back into the FBI’s grasp. 

Hannibal had admitted that he would miss Will. Hannibal had said that he _needed_ Will in the house.

Will’s cell phone began to ring, and he was pulled from his memories just as he had been pulled from bed a week ago. He wiped the tears off his cheek with the back of his hand and squared his shoulders before heading to where he’d left his cell phone in the kitchen.

His hands were shaking as he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“ We traced his phone, Will.” 

\---

Hannibal’s phone had been traced to the cabin he’d sold in Wolf Trap. Will wasn’t sure what they would find in his old house--had the killer left him another note? Or was it possible that he had forgotten about his victim’s phone in the haste to impress Will? 

Will couldn’t recall who they had sold the house to--Hannibal’s realtor had done all of the work. If this killer was obsessed with Will, it was likely that he would jump at the opportunity to live in Will Graham’s old home.

After the deal had been closed, Will didn’t think he would ever return to Wolf Trap. The drive wasn’t more than thirty minutes, but Will felt as if they were slowed down, as if the air was too thick to move through. If Hannibal was at Will’s old home, he needed to get there as fast as physically possible. He and Alana were closer than Quantico was. They would arrive before the FBI. 

Alana drove, not trusting Will’s anxiety. His leg was jumping nervously and he couldn’t stop tapping his fingers. He desperately wished for gum to chew, or something to drink. Anything to keep his muscles moving. Will needed to feel like he was working on something, just as he had previously with cleaning the kitchen. He was becoming more restless with each mile. 

Will knew that she would try to hold him back--he was emotionally involved. He wasn’t _real_ FBI. Her words and small hands on his forearm would only do so much. This was Hannibal, not some nameless, faceless victim. Years ago, Hannibal had carried Will away from the burning wreckage of his car. Will would carry Hannibal away from this nightmare. He had to.

As they rounded the bend in the road, Will saw all he needed to convince himself that Hannibal was inside the house. There was a jeep in the drive, and lights shone through the curtained windows on the ground floor. It was nearly noon on a weekday--people were at work. Alana’s car slowed to a stop in the grass and Will saw a hazy shadow move past a window. He could feel Hannibal’s presence in the pit of his stomach. It was a heavy weight, a pressure that urged him out of the vehicle on light feet, making his way to the porch with trepidation. He didn’t want to startle the killer, only confront him.

When Will moved to open the door, he found that it was unlocked. He nudged it open with his hip, keeping his right hand on the holster at the small of his back. If Hannibal was in any immediate danger, Will wouldn’t waste his time with trying to lure the killer away. Will felt as he did entering Freddie Lounds’ rental a few weeks ago. His nerves were no longer twitching, the contractions in his muscles were calculated and careful. Once inside the doorway he stopped, and dropped his hands to his sides.

“ Mr. Graham!” The killer turned from where he had Hannibal tied upon a workspace in the living room. It was the same oak countertop that Will used to gut his fish on. The air was thick with the rusty smell of blood. Hannibal was hogtied on his stomach, with lacerations on his wrists and down his sides. The exposed skin of his torso was flayed like gills. The blood flowed and pooled onto the wood floor.

Will brought his eyes from his lover to the man who had done this. He felt vicious. “ Step away from Dr. Lecter, uhm,” he fell short, not having a name.

“ Matthew Brown,” the man supplied. He was the same height as Will, with short, dark hair and muscled arms. Matthew circled from the workspace to stand before Will with an easy, feline grace. His footsteps were quiet, voice reverent. “ You’re even more stunning in person, Will, I can’t believe it... would you let me to touch you?” 

Will shied an inch away from Matthew. He glanced at where Hannibal was, saw his lover’s neck craning in an effort to look at him. Hannibal’s face was pale and he couldn’t maintain the position for long. Hannibal was weak--there was so much blood that had leaked from his wounds. Will’s eyes narrowed and his right hand moved back to grab his gun. Before Matthew could close the foot in between them, Will aimed and shot the killer’s left shoulder. 

The gunshot was ringing in his ears as Matthew fell to the floor. The bullet clipped him, taking off a sizeable chunk of flesh with it as it embedded itself in the floor. Alana was moving into the doorway, her eyes wide. 

“ I didn’t kill him,” Will reassured her, but it felt more like he was talking to himself. “ Call Jack.” 

He kicked the knife from Matthew’s hand, _accidentally_ bringing the heel of his boot down to crush his palm. Will’s eyes flashed dark; he wanted so badly to tear this lowly creature apart. If the FBI wasn’t involved, if his lover wasn’t lying prone and possibly dying nearby, he would.

Hannibal’s bonds were easily released. Will couldn’t say how long he’d been kept in that position, only that his skin was starting to bruise where the hemp had chafed it raw. Will turned him onto his back, and then fetched a glass of water from the sink. By the time he was helping Hannibal sit up to drink, there were sirens in the distance. 

Will was sitting on the workspace himself, behind Hannibal. The doctor’s bare back was propped up against Will’s chest. Matthew had left Hannibal in only his slacks. The slow expansion and deflation of his chest was beginning to worry Will. Where were the paramedics? Why was everybody moving so slowly?

“ I’m so sorry, Hannibal,” he whispered, burying his nose in the sweat drenched hair of his lover. Will felt for the pulse in Hannibal’s wrist. It was weak and sluggish. “ I love you, I need you to stay here. I know I left, but I need you to stay,” he hissed into his neck, tasting blood upon the skin. Hannibal wheezed in response. 

Will wrapped his warmth more fully against Hannibal’s shivering form. He saw the dark blue of the paramedic uniform, and a gurney being hauled inside. Alana was returning with Jack, who immediately went to handcuff Matthew. There was no sympathy in the handling of his shoulder. Hannibal was one of their own.

When Hannibal was finally taken from his arms and hauled away to the ambulance, Will looked down at himself. His flannel was marked periodically with blood, in the same pattern that Hannibal’s sides had been cut. His hands were shaking, drops of the dark liquid falling to the floor. He hadn’t realized the amount of blood that had spilled from Hannibal’s wounds onto his fingers. Beverly was holding onto his bicep, but moving him towards the porch. Will wasn’t aware of the control he had over his limbs. The actions were clockwork. He didn’t feel the movement of his legs as he sat. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, but all Will wanted to do was stand up. He _needed_ to get up.

“ Will, you should stay still for just a few minutes,” Beverly insisted with a hand on his shoulder. He glanced away from her concerned gaze when the paramedics lifted Hannibal inside the vehicle.

Will shrugged her off of himself and began moving towards the ambulance. Before the back doors were closed, he pulled himself inside. 

One man opened his mouth to protest at Will’s company, but the other shushed him. Another blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, but the only comfort Will found was in holding onto Hannibal’s hand. The deeper lacerations in his wrists had cloth crudely tied around them in an attempt at a tourniquet, and the shallower wounds in his sides were being covered with gauze. They didn’t have the time for stitches.

“ He’ll be okay?” Will watched Hannibal’s eyelids flutter. He was still awake, still conscious somehow. 

The senior paramedic that had previously shushed his partner turned to Will. “ His outlook is good, agent.” 

“ I’m not an agent,” Will grumbled, probably a tad too harshly. He met the medic’s eyes before lowering his own to where his hand intertwined with Hannibal’s. “ Thank you.”

\---

When they arrived at the hospital, Will was forced to remain in the waiting room. He had snarled at the nurse who prevented him from entering the room where Hannibal was. Guilt only set in once a security guard had to manhandle him into an uncomfortable chair. Regulations weren’t the nurse’s fault. She had no control over where he was and wasn’t allowed to be.

So Will waited. Jack showed up within ten minutes, solemnly requesting a statement from Will. While expected, Will had hoped to at least have some alone time with Hannibal first. He could be assured of his lover’s safety, reminded of the bond they shared, and then he could sort out exactly what had happened in his old house.

They moved to a conference room supplied by the hospital.

“ Where is he? I don’t want him on the same floor, in the same _wing_ as Hannibal.” Will’s knee was jumping with renewed anxiety.

Jack gave a tight-lipped smile. “ Matthew Brown is currently being interrogated. His wound was superficial, it’s not life-threatening. He will receive care after answering our questions.”

Will nodded sharply, waiting for his own interrogation. 

“ You disarmed the killer, Will. Alana saw you lure him away from Hannibal before shooting. Your judgment would’ve been considerably clouded in this situation. Is there any other information that I should have?” Jack wasn’t angry. He almost seemed proud of Will.

“ N-no… I saw him. How much he loved me. This killer, he saw Hannibal as just another fish in the sea for me. Nothing special. He truly believed that getting Hannibal out of the way would make me love him. He’s insane, Jack. He thought that by becoming one of the killers, I would get in his head. We would share something.” Will shivered as he blinked out of Matthew’s eyes and back into the brightly lit hospital room.

The large, reassuring hand of Jack Crawford clapped upon his shoulder. Will knew that there would be no formal inquiry on the shot he had fired. For the purposes of this case, Will had acted as appropriately as he could. 

When he returned to the waiting room, Alana was sitting in the corner with two cups of coffee and a bag of doughnuts. Will gratefully took the insulated cup, watching the steam funneling out from the hole in the black lid. He waved off the doughnut that was offered up to him. “ Not hungry. Thanks for the coffee, Alana.” 

“ Will, you haven’t eaten in over a day.” She was right, but that didn’t spur his appetite.

“ I’ll eat when we’re home. You’ll see, I’ll make Hannibal a really shitty meal. When he eats it, he’ll ignore that the meat is probably overdone and the vegetables are soft. You know Hannibal, always so polite. He’ll compliment my attempt at food. Ask him about breakfast the first night he stayed at my place. What a disaster.” Will smiled wistfully at the memory. Alana took the anecdote as a positive sign. 

Within the hour, a different nurse had come out to allow a visitor into Hannibal’s room. Will jumped at the development, nearly tripping over himself as they made their way down the hallway. The linoleum squeaked with the movement of his boots. 

The lights in Hannibal’s room were dimmed. A saline drip was hooked to his arm, as well as a blood-bag. He was still being transfused. Will felt his lower lip trembling as he stepped inside, glad that there was already a chair pulled round to the bedside. Hannibal appeared to be sleeping and Will didn’t want to wake him.

Will sat heavily in the chair. It was more comfortable than those in the waiting room, but the upholstery was scratchy. He longed so badly to be lounging in their living room. The rhythm of Hannibal turning pages, a fire crackling when it was colder. Will rested on the floor when Hannibal was in an armchair, with his head in the other man’s lap if they reclined on the sofa. The memories made his heart pound painfully. 

“ I love you so much, Hannibal. This is my fault. I…you should have never been involved.” Will gripped the starchy bedsheets instead of Hannibal’s hand. He was terrified of hurting his lover anymore. “ I thought we could get away from it, Han. I thought moving away would help us. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Hannibal’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. Will felt the press of fingertips against his knuckles. He glanced up from where the needle had been inserted into Hannibal’s elbow. The doctor was smiling, but it was lopsided. Will supposed that he was on something strong, maybe morphine. “ M’ sweet lamb,” Hannibal grumbled roughly, bringing his hand up to cup Will’s cheek. The action was more of a heavy pat, but Will appreciated the sentiment. 

When Hannibal succumbed to the drugs again, Will laid his head on the mattress next to his lover’s hand and attempted to sleep. His rest was punctuated by vivid, terrifying imagery. Hannibal as the Wound Man. Hannibal having completely bled out on the workspace before Will arrived. Hannibal’s spine pulled out and his body charred. Over and over, each of the Ripper victims were replaced with the Ripper himself. When the sun rose, a nurse shook him awake.

Will spent the next twenty minutes filling out discharge paperwork. He supplied information as to where the department should send the electronic scripts for Hannibal’s medications--a narcotic and an antibiotic. By the time he was done, Hannibal was sitting in a wheelchair near the hospital bed. Staying overnight was all that had been necessary for Hannibal’s wounds. With the transfusion complete and drugs to be regulated at home, Hannibal just needed rest. Will would attempt to bring him in for a follow up within the month, but knew that the doctor would insist on taking out his own stitches. 

“ Ready to go, Han?” Will smiled, reaching down to move his hands along Hannibal’s shoulders. He knew there were no wounds there. “ Winston missed you.” Will hadn’t been home yet, but he knew that Winston had attached himself to Hannibal more than any of the other mutts. 

Hannibal gave him a toothy smile. “ Only Winston? We’ll see if the others get sausage from now on.”

\---

Alana and Beverly had done Will a favor and fetched his car from the house while he slept in Hannibal’s room. The navy SUV had been an anniversary gift from Hannibal. Will hadn’t thought that it was an appropriate present, but he couldn’t say no. His car had been totalled in the accident and since then, he had resorted to driving an unreliable two-door piece of junk bought from a college student. Will fetched the vehicle from the parking garage as Hannibal waited in the lobby. He was still high on narcotics when Will helped him into the passenger seat.

As Will drove, Hannibal’s head lolled to the side and the doctor slept once more. When his lover slept like this, hair dishevelled and his chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as any other being in sleep, Will forgot the secrets Hannibal had buried. This peaceful man wasn’t a serial killer. He was Will Graham’s lover and his partner. Will wouldn’t put him in harm’s way again.

Will struggled with moving Hannibal inside their home. The doctor wasn’t much taller than Will, but he was built. With Hannibal’s legs being akin to jelly, the task had proved annoying. The real problem came in the form of sloppy kisses, pressed against Will’s neck and collarbone. Hannibal didn’t seem to realize that Will was trying to drag him inside. When Will finally got Hannibal in his preferred armchair, he was out of breath. “ You’re going to be the death of me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal was regaining consciousness slowly. His cheeks were flushed from sleep, mouth wet from the kisses he’d given Will. “ I thought we were trying prevent my death, love,” he snorted. 

Will fetched them each a glass of water and smiled. “ Are you discrediting my rescue mission?” 

The smile that spread across Hannibal’s mouth was more solemn this time. The drugs were wearing off. “ I never got the chance to thank you.” 

“ Thank me? Hannibal, I can’t imagine a life without you. I was so… there was nothing else I could have done. I would have done anything, _I will always do everything_ , to save you.” Hannibal’s eyes were no longer cloudy as Will kneeled down before him. His hands were warmer than they had been the night before. “ I wanted to murder that man. When I shot him, I wanted to rip him limb from limb. For you.” Will gave a trembling smile. “ I love you so much, Han. I don’t want this to happen again.”

Hannibal dropped his head down until their lips met. The kiss was slow and sensuous. Will thought that Hannibal tasted sterile and briefly wondered if he’d tasted the same after coming back from the emergency room when he still practiced. Hannibal’s tongue probed against Will’s lips, begging for something more. Will pulled back. “ You’re still injured, Hannibal. Your meds...they’re masking the pain.”

“ I’m the doctor, Will,” Hannibal insisted, cupping Will’s face in his hands. He attempted to pull up the profiler, but stopped halfway through the motion. Will didn’t miss Hannibal’s wince, or the way that he experimentally flexed the tendons of his forearms. “ Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded.

“ Rest for a week. No strenuous movement,” Will teased in a professional tone, patting Hannibal’s knee reassuringly as he took the last sip of his water. “ But that doesn’t mean that you won’t be getting mind-blowing head, especially to make up for my awful cooking.” 

Will kissed Hannibal’s forehead as he took the empty glasses out of the room. 

“ We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner,” he called back, grinning at the exasperated sigh that came from behind him. For the night, Will was comfortable with enjoying Hannibal’s presence and sharing their bed together for the first time in over a week. When he had looked at Hannibal, he could see that the feelings were reciprocated. Hannibal’s walls were down--the abduction and the drugs had made him entirely vulnerable. Will was more than happy to play the celebrating, reunited couple for the evening. They would deal with the fall out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [||tumblr||](http://lemonscientist.tumblr.com)


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